


For the Only Hope

by ausland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Cunnilingus, F/M, Good Severus Snape, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, Hermione is an adult before anything happens, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Relationship of equals, Slow Burn, Time Turner (Harry Potter), Vaginal Fingering, darkish hermione, really extensive time turner use, soul experimentation, spy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 62
Words: 420,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausland/pseuds/ausland
Summary: Dumbledore wouldn't have left trouble magnet Harry Potter defenseless for years at Hogwarts. At thirteen Hermione becomes his protector, working and training with Severus, giving up her childhood to ensure Harry's safety. As times passes, Severus becomes teacher, mentor, friend, and eventually lover. A story of spies, plots, and love. M in Part Three. Winner of SSHG Best WIP Award.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 1109
Kudos: 1108





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my (over 400k) epic fic, For the Only Hope. I have recently come over to AO3, and will start posting this fic here! It is currently at 59 chapters, with many more to come. 
> 
> I'll be posting a chapter a week, every Saturday, until I catch up to what I have written! This story is also posted over at FF.net, but since so many more people are here nowadays, I'm excited to join you. 
> 
> I'm in need of a beta, so if anyone wants to volunteer, please contact me! Up until about Chapter 10-15 ish was beta'd, but I'd love to get the rest of this behemoth looked over. 
> 
> This story does not adhere to canon! It follows closely for a while, and then will diverge in many small and large ways as the ramifications of Hermione-as-Protector begin to multiply. Many things are changed in this chapter alone. 
> 
> This is a three part story. Part One: Hermione comes into her own (8 chapters). Part Two: Severus and Hermione begin to work even more closely together, and begin to fall in love (26 chapters). Part Three: They figure it all out while trying to end the Dark Lord (the rest). Let's get started!

**_Part One_ **

**_Chapter 1_ **

"Severus. Lemon drop?" The only reply from the man before him was a pointed glare. Albus Dumbledore nodded, resigned, as he tucked the brown paper packet of candy back into a hidden pocket of his colorful robes. He was used to his stern and severe Potions Master declining his tart offering. But, cheerful as ever, the old man smiled and inclined his head once more, silently bidding the man to sit.

Severus Snape appeared to be distinctly uncomfortable in the small, cozy office. His black robes were tightly wrapped around him and his trademark scowl was more firmly in place than ever. It had not been an easy night for the professor. "You needed to speak with me, Albus?" His words were crisp and clean, spoken in silky distaste, making it quite clear that he had a hundred other things to do, most of them preferable to the current situation. He was quite talented in the use of his voice- he managed to convey his displeasure with the late summons, his unpleasant but not totally unexpected surprise after the Sorting, and his irritation with the world in general.

Coughing slightly, Albus replied. "Yes. What were your impressions of young Mr. Potter?" As expected, the Potions Master lost a slight measure of his control at the name. However, his loss of control was different from that of an ordinary man- Severus Snape's eyes grew darker, if possible, and if anyone had been able to penetrate their depths, they would have seen a sharp bite of pain. His hands flexed once, and his sallow cheeks held the barest hint of a flush. But that was all.

"He was obviously unprepared for his entry into the Wizarding World," the dour man said, even more clipped and precise than before. "He has bonded with the Side of Light," -this was said in an impressively sarcastic tone- "One of the Weasleys has befriended him. Draco Malfoy offered a hand of friendship, which Potter denied. He was under the Sorting Hat for a slightly longer than normal time- probably the hat deciding between two houses. It takes no idiot to guess that it was a fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

His words had the desired effect- Dumbledore frowned, glaring at the man in front of him. "Explain how you came to this conclusion." It was indeed of great importance that the only one to ever survive the wrath of Lord Voldemort- that is to say, Harry Potter- stay on the Side of Light and never stray. For if Harry Potter was lost, all was lost.

And if certain people knew that Harry had almost been Sorted into Slytherin…

Severus snorted. "He was Sorted into Gryffindor. That is one house. The fact he was mouthing 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin' gives us the other one." His face was as expressionless as it normally was, but the faint nervous tick under his right eye gave him away. "May I leave? I have classes tomorrow and a new batch of incompetent imbeciles to keep from blowing up their cauldrons and my classroom."

"Have you finished your part of the protections for the Stone?" asked Dumbledore, still considering the information.

Handing over a roll of parchment, Severus stood. "And it rhymes, now," he said sarcastically. "As requested. Anything else?"

Albus nodded slowly, reading over the riddle. "No, no. Are you certain this will provide an adequate challenge for Harry?"

"Most wizards couldn't solve a simple logic puzzle," snapped Snape, anger flickering in his eyes. "And may I remind you again how ridiculously dangerous it is to even consider having the Stone-"

"You may leave, Severus." Albus looked up. "I've been planning this for years. This will be a perfect test of the boy's abilities. And if it happens to draw Tom out of hiding, all the better."

_He lost his mind years ago,_ Severus thought resignedly. _And if the Dark Lord does reappear, what will you do old man? The Order of the Phoenix has grown feeble and complacent, whilst the Death Eaters chafe at the bonds of everyday drudgery and remember the days when the New Order was within reach…_

With a dramatic flair of his robes, Severus Snape departed the Headmaster's office with his scowl set even more firmly than before. Woe behold any student out of bed on their first night back- the feared Potions Master was on the prowl.

* * *

The round faces of the first years stared up at him, for their first Potions class ever. Some looked apprehensive- those were the ones that had older siblings that he had taught. Others looked eager- there was one bushy haired girl with chipmunk teeth that looked as if she might bounce out of her seat.

And there was Harry (not James however much he may look bloody identical to his father ) Potter. Next to him was a sniveling Weasley and on his other side was a boy who looked absolute terrified.

As he took roll, he evaluated his plan for the class. He needed to make sure they were terrified of him- potions accidents could be deadly and he needed absolute control in the classroom. _Of course I don't think it's fun to have the little shits so terrified that they stop breathing when I come near. Oh, who am I kidding. Of course it is. And it helps insure they don't blow me up by accident._

"Ah, yes," Severus said softly, drawing out the last syllable. "Harry Potter. Our new…" oh, how to phrase this? So many options. "Celebrity." His godson and the accompanying cronies sniggered. He didn't glance up again until he finished calling roll.

And now for his favorite part of the first class. His speech. The time to see if any of the dunderheads in his classroom would possibly be able to grasp the beauty and subtleties of potion making.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said, savoring ever word, voice barely above a whisper. He glanced around the room, then moved out from behind his desk. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I do not expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…" he drew pause for breath. This was interesting.

The annoyingly eager girl was perched at the edge of her seat, face perfectly still and serious. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-" he narrowed his eyes and made his voice into a dangerous snap. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." That snapped her out of it. He turned his attention to Harry Potter.

And now. The moment of truth. Would Lily's son actually have her gift for Potions? Would he have bothered to read ahead in his books, the way he and she had twenty years ago? They had read so far ahead, discussing all the subjects but Potions most of all.

And although he was 99% sure this would fly over the boy's head, he would get the last of his guilt over Lily's death out at the same time. _No, you won't. This is foolish. Someone else might understand it, and then where would you be? And you're kidding yourself if you think apologizing to her son is going to change anything. You're going to regret Lily's death until the day you die and plant symbols aren't going to help one bit._

"Potter," he barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" _I bitterly regret her death, Potter. I would have taken her place. I tried._

Potter didn't answer, but the girl in the front row had her hand raised as soon as he finished the last word. He ignored her. "I don't know, sir."

"Tut, tut- fame clearly isn't everything." He sneered at the boy, in lieu of actually showing his disappointment. _Damn._

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" An easier question, one a first year could definitely answer, even if they had only briefly looked over the book. Again the girl's hand shot high in the air, and he could see her biting her lip to refrain from bouncing up and down. _Gryffindors._

Again, the same answer from the boy. "I don't know, sir."

For some reason, this annoyed him greatly. _All you had to do was look at the bloody text before coming._ "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" His eyes met Potters and something inside his heart clenched. Lily's eyes. In James Potter's face. It hurt.

One more question. An incredibly easy one. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" It seemed the girl in front was getting fed up- she stood up, not that it added much height, arm stretched in the air.

"I don't know," the boy said. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" The laughter rankled at Snape. _Just like his father._

He glared at the girl, eyes delving into her mind. She was practically screaming the answers to his questions, projecting him so loudly it was incredibly easy to pull them from her mind. Surprisingly, she was right. "Sit down, girl," he snapped at her.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you copying that down?"

He could feel a headache coming on.

* * *

"It cannot happen again!" Dumbledore roared, façade of a calm, wise, old man fled in the face of the day's events. "The boy almost died today during his first Quidditch match. It is unacceptable!" _So if someone other than you puts him in danger, then it's a problem. Duly noted._

Severus Snape watched with wary eyes at the unnatural display of temper on Dumbledore's part. "The Potter boy is more trouble than he's worth," he said caustically, if cautiously. "First the ridiculous deal with Draco and the Longbottom boy's Remembrall when they were learning to fly. Then the Midnight Duel when Draco tried and failed to trap him, Weasley, Longbottom, and that Granger girl." At the mention of the busy haired nuisance, his face twisted into a sneer. "And after that, Halloween." Severus felt a throbbing in his leg and arm at the mention of the dratted night. "The boy goes after a bloody mountain troll, no matter what Granger said. The girl's mind was surprising in the amount of control she has over it, but it is defenseless." Those clear brown eyes had hidden a beautifully organized mind, one worthy of a beginning Occlumens. If she hadn't been a Gryffindor, he would have recommended she study the mind arts

Albus steepled his fingers, and nodded gravely. "That was brave of Harry. To go to the defense of a girl he barely knows is something worthy of Gryffindor House." _No,_ Severus thought. _To go against a twelve foot mountain troll as a first year with hardly any magical training to save an innocent you trapped with the previously mentioned twelve foot mountain troll is stupid._

"If you say it was something his father would have done, I assure you, I will revisit my dinner," Severus said dryly. "And as for the girl, he could have chosen someone better. She is nothing but a walking, talking encyclopedia. I'm sure you've noticed how high both the Weasley boy and Potter's grades have risen since they befriended the chit?" It was point of constant irritation to him that she kept helping them. They were undeserving and unthankful of her time. Although, he supposed, he must be at least a little grateful. All the time it must take her to attempt to pound their essays into any sort of sense meant less time for her to practice written regurgitation on the miserably lengthy papers she turned in to him.

The Headmaster just smiled blithely. "Yes. I assumed she had influenced them to study more." _No, you didn't, you bloody wanker._ Severus made no effort to disguise his disgust with the Headmaster, rolling his eyes and huffing out a loud sigh.

"She was the one who set my bloody robes on fire today," he muttered. "Conveniently tripping over Quirrell on her way to roast a teacher." At Dumbledore's raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "She's bright enough to recognize the signs of a person who is jinxing another person. However, Miss Granger is not bright enough to know the difference between a jinx and a counter-jinx."

The Headmaster furrowed his brow, and eyed Severus thoughtfully. Too thoughtfully. In Severus' opinion, anytime Albus Dumbledore got that particular expression it would be a bad few years- decades even- for whomever he was thinking of. "In your opinion, Harry Potter gets himself into far too much danger, correct?" The wily glint in his eye was visible to Snape, who had seen it directed at himself far too often in past years for comfort.

"Yes," said the Potions Master carefully. "He has a dangerous disregard for the rules. He enjoys wandering the school at night. I believe he will develop an even bigger head with the Quidditch success that will assuredly be his. His grades are mediocre and his friendship with Granger means only that he gets by with cheating off of her and not learning."

"So," Dumbledore proposed, quite logically, "He needs a protector, does he not?" His blue eyes were twinkling madly, and inwardly, Severus cursed like a sailor for allowing himself to be caught in such an obvious trap.

He glared at the Headmaster. "No. Not me. I refuse." His mind flew to Lily Evans, the first person who had ever needed him, and the person who, debatably, had hurt him the most in the grand total of his thirty long, long years. No, he hadn't loved her. But to a teenaged boy, infatuation was close enough and for a man as damaged as Severus, Lily's actions had been devastating. "I will not."

"You promised to watch over him," Dumbledore reminded him, tone somewhere between reprimanding and warning. "You promised the memory of his mother." However, when the old man saw that the Potions Master refused to budge on the matter, he sighed. "And anyway, Severus, I wasn't thinking of you."

This surprised the firmly stubborn man- but the only signs were a slight widening of his eyes and a stiffening of his back. "What?" _Some other poor soul roped into giving his or her life for the Boy-Who-Lived. Wasn't Lily enough?_ He had to look away- to concentrate on something other than the Headmaster's twinkling eyes and solemn expression. A study of the cluster of silver spindly instruments on a corner shelf fared nicely- he watched them puff for a calming moment until he faced the man again.

"For all your talents as a spy," Dumbledore said seriously, "You have alienated the boy. He would not come to you for help or protection. In fact, Hagrid tells me that the boy detests you." _Likewise,_ Severus added in his mind. Dumbledore, master Legilimens that he was, did not notice, but continued his with his theory. "Therefore, we need someone closer to Harry. I was thinking about one of his friends."

"One of his friends?" whispered Severus, face paling in degrees. "The bumbling red-headed oaf or the overeager know-it-all? Unless you were thinking of the walking disaster that is Neville Longbottom?" He shook his head once more, stringy black hair flinging about his face. "I forbid it. Not only would you be putting Potter in more danger, but you would be ripping away the childhood of one of his friends." _The Dark Lord will return soon enough. Let them be children for as long as they damn well can._

"But I think it is necessary," Dumbledore intoned sadly. "For the Greater Good." He leaned back in his chair, and regarded the man in front of him. "Severus," he said, clearly attempting to sound wise and reasonable. "Think about it. Over the summer we can train either Mr. Weasley, or Miss Granger. Take them to one of the old safe houses from the glory days of the Order. Then we could be assured Harry is as safe as possible when we are not with him."

"But which one?" asked Severus sarcastically. "Mr. Weasley will probably blush, stammer, wet his pants, and promptly faint when confronted by a spider. And Miss Granger will stand stock still running through all the spells she has ever learned trying to decide which one will earn her more points before being stunned by whoever her opponent is."

Dumbledore winced. He had clearly not thought this through- if that was possible for Albus Dumbledore. "Then it is up to you," he said finally, in his best delegating voice. "Report back to me before the end of the year as to which on would be the best choice. And I think the traps we planned for the stone will be an excellent test."

* * *

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," Harry said earnestly. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now." In the dim light of the corridor, Hermione sighed. Something about this entire set up was fishy. She wasn't about to let Harry go into it alone. The little, friendless girl in her clung to him and his approval desperately- and Harry valued bravery.

"Don't be stupid," said Ron. Hermione nodded, and glanced at Ron over Harry's shoulder for confirmation. Ron was where she drew the line- she had enough pride not to try to seek his approval. Harry was enough of a blow to her ego.

"We're coming," said Hermione, in her 'this is what I am saying and that is not changing anytime soon' voice. Together, the trio crept into the room where the sleeping Cerberus lay, snorting and snoring. Somehow, the beast sensed them, its ears perking up and three of its eyes opening threateningly.

Hermione gently eased the wooden flute from Harry's motionless hand, and began to play, desperately trying to remember her music classes at day school. As she played, as soothingly as she could, Ron and Harry pushed one of Fluffy's paws off the trapdoor. When the boys had opened it, they gathered around the edge, looking down.

All Hermione could see was a narrow tunnel, the walls dark and moist. _And I suppose I'm going to be jumping into that pit of despair sometime soon,_ she thought with a sigh and a quick scale. Her fingers fumbled, and she mentally cursed before starting to play 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.' Harry gave her a strange look, but she shrugged. It _was_ Mozart, after all.

"I can't see anything," Ron whispered. "It's just a dark tunnel." With a quick glance at both his friends, he paled then adopted a skittish grin. "Me first!" Hermione forced herself to keep playing as Ron's screams bounced off the walls of the tunnel, heart stopping for a moment until she heard a thump and an "Oof" from Ron as he landed.

"It's a bit of a rough landing," Ron called up, thin voice echoing off the walls of the tunnel. "But there is some kind of squishy stuff here." Hermione grinned in relief, then motioned with her elbow. Harry winked and saluted, then jumped down with a strained yell. When she heard him land, she bit down her fear and followed him, tucking the flute into her pocket- she had a feeling she would need it later. Above her, she could hear the dogs awake and start barking, raising a racket that would never be heard at this time of night in the enormous castle.

She landed with an exhalation of breath, on what felt like slimy tentacles. Looking around her, she saw Harry and Ron sitting up on the luminous green-gray surface of something that looked vaguely familiar. There was a musty, earthy smell in the air, and the walls dripped with moisture.

"What now?" asked Ron, pale blue eyes turned in her direction. "What next?" _Funny how they always expect me to know everything._

She was about to answer him when Harry let out a strangled yelp. "Hermione!" She turned to face him, finding suspicious resistance. With a gasp, she realized that the tentacles they were sitting on were slowly creeping up their bodies. Harry was trapped up to the waist, Ron to the chest. Both boys started struggling furiously, fear evident in their round faces.

Ignoring their cries, Hermione clenched her eyes shut and focused, thinking as hard as she could. What did she know about this thing -it was a greenish-gray, it had tentacles, it was moving, it was in the dark and damp- her mind pulled up the pages of a Herbology book she had read months ago.

_The plant known as Devil's Snare is a dangerous one- especially in the dark and damp. It is most active at night, when its tendrils- usually a shade of green, brown, or gray- spread and ensnare small birds and mammals. It lives in caves or under deep cover because sunlight is most deadly to it._

"Heat!" Hermione shouted. "Heat and sunlight. Fire!" Despair rolled over her- how was she supposed to make a fire in the deepest recesses of the castle? "We don't have any wood!"

"Are you a witch or not?" roared Ron. "Merlin, Hermione!" Humiliation brought a blush to her cheeks as she extracted her wand and let out a stream of small blue-bell flames. Recoiling from the light, the plant allowed the trio to pull themselves free, making their way over to the only wall that was made of stone instead of dirt, the only wall that had a small passageway.

The next room had keys with wings and brooms to catch them with. Harry took care of that challenge in less than fifteen minutes, his Seeker's eyes pinpointed the only key with a bent wing. She braved her fear of brooms (she had thought those were just stories- what sane person trusts their life to a stick with other sticks bundled to the end?) and helped Harry and Ron corner the darned thing.

The room after, however, was not as easy.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, watching her red-headed friend and occasional tormenter crumple to the ground from the white stone queen's blow to his head. She was echoed by Harry, who, face grim and resolute, stepped to the square needed to checkmate the king.

They won, rushing past and barely noticing the submission of the white pieces. Hermione dragged Ron with them, and then stopped at the door. She and Harry both wanted to access their friend's condition before moving any further. Flashes of medical textbooks were appearing in her mind's eye at a mile a minute, phrases like _subdural hematoma, hypercalcemia,_ and _subarachnoid hemorrhage_ floating in.

Heart beating in her throat, Hermione felt along the scrawny boy's throat for a pulse. When she found one, faint, but there, she broke out in a grin of relief. Not matter how much Ron insulted her and mocked her, he was still the second of the two friends she had. "He'll be okay, for now," she assured Harry. "As long as his- his head injury isn't bad, he'll be okay."

"That's good," Harry whispered, glancing back at the pieces. "Wizard Chess is brutal." A shiver of dread ran through him as he forcefully drew his gaze from the piles of black and white rubble littering the sides of the chessboard.

"We can't stay here," Hermione said firmly, looking Harry in the eye. "We have to keep moving."

They passed through the door that had been blocked by the white pieces. It swung open, and out wafted a stench like the two had only experienced once- that of a full grown mountain troll. Sweat, mud, putrid flesh, urine, and bad breath, all rolled into one. They peered through the crack in the door, and what they saw caused Hermione to moan in dull terror and Harry to let a small cry of fear escape.

It was a mountain troll- one that was standing tall in the chamber, holding a club in one hand, feet chained to a magically reinforced metal ring at the center of the floor. She eyed the chain- its reach was just long enough to allow the troll enough room to swing his club around to every edge of the room. It sniffed the air and lumbered a few steps in her direction before she squeaked and shut the door quickly.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, steeling herself. She had faced one of these before. They won. Against all odds, they had won, and she had lived. They could do it again. "Harry," she said sharply when he didn't respond. "What do you want to do?"

He looked at her, eyes resigned and face far too solemn for a young boy. "I need to get past it. You can stay here with Ron."

She shook her head. "No. You need help." She didn't say she wasn't afraid, because that wasn't true. She didn't say that they would be okay because she wasn't sure if that was true either. "I'll help you."

"Do you have a plan?" asked Harry. "Please say you have a plan, or at least an idea." _And so it falls to me. Homework help is nothing to Devil's Snare and trolls. Plan- a plan we need a plan… What worked? The club, the spell- we need something simple…_

Hermione tried her best to give him a reassuring smile. "Exactly what we did last time. Use its own club like a weapon. One of us plays the distraction; one of us hits it with the club."

Harry just looked at her, then grabbed her and hugged her. "Thank you for being my friend. If we survive, I'll owe you." She hugged him back, and forced herself not to cry.

"Let's go in on three," she suggested, pulling out her wand. "Distraction, or spell-caster?" Darn it all, her hand was shaking. _Not the time, Hermione. Get it together._

Harry considered for a moment, then squared his shoulders and grabbed his wand as well. "Distraction. I have good reflexes and you're the better caster." She nodded, then got behind him as he swung open the door. "One," he said quietly.

"Two," she responded, crossing herself shakily. She had been more or less religious, before she knew she was a witch. It could never hurt, she reasoned.

Harry turned and met her eyes. "Three," he said, then ran into the room, Hermione on his heels. The moment they were past the iron door, it swung shut of its own accord, trapping them inside.

"Hey!" he shouted, waving his arms. "Big, fat, and ugly! Yeah, you!" Harry continued to shout and move, confusing the troll, who stood there for several moments before raising his club.

Hermione took a breath, and opened her eyes, focusing on the wooden club. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she incanted under her breath, hoping not to alert the beast to her presence. Swiftly, the club began to rise out of the troll's hand.

When he saw what was happening, Harry shouted with excitement, further enraging the troll. With a loud roar, he lumbered toward Harry. Hermione noticed this in the back of her mind as she maneuvered the club over the troll's skull. The height of the chamber made it easy for her to lift if high, high enough to knock it out.

With a slash of her wand, she released the spell, allowing the thick length of wood to come crashing down on the skull of the lumbering brute. It landed with a resounding crack, splintering as it split in half and fell to the floor.

She heard Harry give a shout of glee as he ran around the troll to her side. "Look!" he said, pointing, as the troll, weaving unsteadily from side to side, fell to dirt floor with thud. The two of them looked at it, then at each other.

"Blimey," Harry breathed. "It isn't moving, is it?" Hermione shook her head, mute. "Nope? Okay, let's go!" She stood motionless for a moment longer, then followed her best friend. She would stay with him, no matter what.

The door the troll had been guarding opened to reveal a simple room with a stone floor, a wooden table, and several potion vials. As soon as they were both in the room, purple fire sprang forth at their backs and black fire guarded the door at the other end of the room.

Hermione took deep breaths to calm herself, relieved to be free of the awful stench of the troll. They had beaten the troll- they could surely walk through fire. The irony brought a small curl to the side of her mouth. "Well," she said, voice not shaking as much as had thought it would, "Well. We need to figure out what we need to do."

Approaching the table, she found a sheet of parchment with beautiful (familiar?) handwriting spelling out a riddle.

_Danger lies before, while safety lies behind_  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf or giant holds death on their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

Hermione felt her smile grow stronger, and she laughed outright in relief. Harry stared at her, having finished reading the riddle over her shoulder. Still laughing, she grabbed him and hugged him.

"This is brilliant!" she said, grinning like crazy. "Most wizards haven't an ounce of logic, and they'd be trapped here forever! Snape is bloody brilliant!" For it was obviously Snape's challenge- he was the Potions Master and he did have an amazingly sharp wit. Unfortunately, that wit was usually used to torment his classes of incompetents. And it was his handwriting on the paper.

Harry grinned a little at her excitement. "So you can solve this?" he asked, glancing at the table, where the seven bottles glittered ominously in the colored light of the two fires.

Hermione nodded, already lost in thought. _The second left and the second right are the nettle wine. That means the one on the far left is a poison. The other one, on the right of the nettle wine is the one to go back. That means one of the three in the middle is the one to get to the stone! One of the nettle wine is the biggest bottle, and the smallest bottle isn't the other nettle wine. So the round bottle, the tiny one, is the one to go forward!_

"I got it," she announced. "The one on the far right is the one to go back. The one in the middle, the littlest one, is the one to go forward." They both looked at the smallest bottle, the one with barely a mouthful of glittering potion.

Harry looked at her solemnly. "There's only enough for one. You go back and take care of Ron, and get a message to Dumbledore. I'll go forward."

"But what if Voldemort's there?" she said, desperately wanting to take his place. "What if he's with-"

"Don't worry," Harry said, cutting her off sharply, but with a smile. "I've beaten him once before, I can do it again."

Unable to hold herself back any longer, she threw herself into his arms. "Oh, Harry," she said, a few tears escaping. "You're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," Harry said, embarrassed. Hermione felt a brief annoyance rise inside her, and quelled it. She, if not he, could all but sense the rising evil in the next room, behind the flames. He need, for lack of a better term, a pep talk.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery – oh, Harry – be _careful!_ " A sharp spike of fear ran through her body, as she thought of what she was sending her first friend off into.

She handed him the smallest bottle, the one with the potion to go forward. "Here," she said, willing her hand not to tremble. "Go." She grabbed her own bottle, and crossed to her side of the room. "On three?" she offered.

He nodded, guiltily. Hermione knew that he would probably never admit he was terrified. "Yeah. One."

She gave him a brilliant smile, and toasted the small bottle. "Two… bravery!" She got the laugh out of him she wanted.

"Three," he said, and together they uncorked the bottles and swallowed a mouthful. With one more look, they darted through the flames. The freezing cold of the potion battled against the searing heat of the flames before she emerged on the other side, intact. She let out the breath she had been holding.

Hermione ran past the troll, barreling into the chess room. Ron was on the floor, just starting to stir. As soon as he was semi-conscious, Hermione was dragging him along with her through the flying keys. There, she cursed and grabbed a broom. "I hate flying," she muttered, pulling Ron with her back to the Devil's Snare.

It seemed scared of her now, the plant seeming reluctant as it wound around her ankles. With a few slashes of her wand, the bluebell flames were back in the air and the plant was recoiling.

"Come on," she told Ron, who was still groggy, and definitely not liking the fast pace. But he got on the broom, and held on to her waist as they rose up to where the slats of the wooden trapdoor let a few slivers of light peek through. The fear that had left with her new found purpose returned: what if the dog was lying over the trapdoor? Or what if the music trick didn't work?

But the trapdoor gave way, and playing the flute lulled the Cerberus to sleep. Hermione grabbed Harry's cloak from the floor, where it lie forgotten in their rush to save the stone. Ron was starting to walk better now- he was moaning about his head instead of throwing her angry glares.

They ran out of the room into the forbidden third floor corridor- Hermione ordering Ron to go to the Hospital Wing while she went to find Dumbledore.

* * *

"So, Severus," Dumbledore said genially, leaning back in this throne-chair and folding his hands into a thoughtful triangle. "What did you think?"

Severus, slouching in the armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk, glared at the old man. "I think it was very stupid of you. Sir. The children could have died. You precious Boy-Who-Lived could have died!" he spat.

"You're just upset that they thought you were the bad guy," Dumbledore retorted, chuckling. "They were trying to save the Stone from you."

Severus just scowled, and Dumbledore straightened suddenly, eyes growing serious. "But it is done, for better or for worse. Which companion would make the best protector?"

"Miss Granger," Severus answered without hesitation. "She was clever. She did not freeze under pressure. She was brave. She made sure your boy hero's courage did not fail him. She has logic, and she did what needed to be done. She made sure she had a way back." _And I have just damned her. Hopefully, she will be smart enough to say no._

Dumbledore frowned. "Not Ronald Weasley? He and Harry are great friends. He was Harry's first friend, and he makes him laugh." At the Potions Master's raised eyebrow, he sighed, agreeing. "No, no, you are right, my boy. It must be the girl."

Both men looked away, Dumbledore examining the series of silver instruments scattered around his office and Severus casting a longing glance at the cool night outside the tower.

"When shall we start to train her?" asked Snape. "She needs to start young." His mind was going through all the things she would have to learn- hand to hand combat, knife fighting, the art of lying and manipulation, healing, and a wide, wide range of spells, Occlumency, Legilimency.

Dumbledore thought, mind obviously darting far ahead in the future. "Not yet. It seems that Harry is safe for now- he has proven he can handle himself for the time being. I'll make subtle suggestions to her parents. But perhaps once the Weasley boy matures a bit, he will make the better choice." It was obvious to the practiced reader of people that Dumbledore wanted the prettiest picture- Potter one day finding out that his loyal best friend had always more-than-had his back throughout the years, rather than the opposite. Potter would probably be horrified that his female best friend was his so-called protector.

Severus shook his head in despair. "You are making a mistake. If you want a fighter, a protector, then you need to start now. If you want Potter to have a friend, a _child,_ you must not start at all."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday!
> 
> Another chapter, as promised! I'm working quite diligently on Chapter 60, so we've got quite a ways to go. Welcome to all who are new and a fond hello to those who have returned!
> 
> This one is a bit shorter - not much happens in CoS I'm afraid.

_**Chapter 2** _

"This is exactly why Miss Granger is most suited to defending Mr. Potter!" Severus hissed, slamming a copy _The Daily Prophet_ down on the Headmaster's desk. "Mr. Weasley is a danger to the boy. Convincing him to _fly a car_ to here from the center of London!" He leaned forward, hands spread on the Headmaster's desk.

When the Headmaster did not refute his statement, Snape cursed and stalked to the end of the room. "The Malfoys are planning something." The night outside was velvety dark, the stars tiny pinpricks of light in the void.

This got Dumbledore's attention. He frowned and motioned Severus to take the seat in front of him. "What have you heard, my boy?"

Severus scowled at the title, chafing at the bonds of loyalty to the manipulative old man before him. "Nothing but sly hints and veiled promises of an interesting year." _And that there was a mysterious case of accidental magic at Potter's house this summer._ "You know how Lucius likes to play with his food before he eats it."

"And what did you think of the results of the exams from last year?" asked Dumbledore, tucking the valuable and troubling information deep into his mind.

Severus snorted out a semblance of a laugh. "Pathetic. I swear they get stupider every year. I blame inbreeding." His eyes narrowed as he leaned against the far wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course that's not what you're interested in."

"You know me too well," Dumbledore mused. From any other man, that would be a joke, or perhaps a reassurance. From Dumbledore, it was a warning. Most didn't know the Headmaster as well as Severus did- they had no clue how much of a manipulative old goat he was. "I want to know what you thought of Miss Granger's test results."

"They are what was expected of the girl," Severus snapped. "Perfect, above perfect, perfect." He shook his head. "She has a love of books," he said, calmer, a thoughtful look taking his harsh features. "It is amazing how she absorbs knowledge like a sponge. She has the makings of a great Potions Mistress, if she shows an interest. Steady hands, a good grasp of Muggle chemistry, and a remarkable memory. Of course," he sneered, "She will probably want to do something pathetic and pointless like trying to save the manticores."

"This makes you angry," Dumbledore observed. "Why?"

Severus scowled at him and snorted. "You sound like a goddamn Muggle shrink," he muttered. "Because _maybe_ she could be brilliant."

"And what about Mr. Weasley?" asked Albus. "What were your opinions of his scores?" His bright blue eyes were widened in an attempt to appear innocent; however, Severus had known him far too intimately for far too long to be fooled.

Crossing his arms again and snorting delicately, Severus gave his answer. "If I had not been given the distinct," he paused for emphasis, and drawled his next word with all the sarcasm he deemed fitting. " _Honor_ of having Weasley in my class all year, I would be running ever scan known to man on him, under the assumption that the head wound he sustained last year was far more severe than anyone had realized."

"As eloquent as ever, Severus," Albus said with a shake of his head. "Mr. Weasley's scores were not as-

"Terrible? Embarrassing? Fatal as they could have been?" Severus asked snidely. "Imagine what would have happened if Miss Granger hadn't forced him to study."

"I concede that point," the Headmaster said, nodding his head wisely. "But the past is the past and when can only hope that Mr. Weasley will show more initiative in the future. I needed to ask you about…"

* * *

"Go, my boy. You have rounds tonight," Dumbledore lectured sternly. "Lockhart is not – how did you put it?

"An invertebrate quivering excuse for a human being masquerading as an incompetent milksop of a professor," hissed Severus, real anger on his face for once. "He is wasting a year of time that we could be using to adequately prepare the students for the _war_ that is looming on the horizon."

Dumbledore tucked a lemon drop in his mouth, pressing to his cheek as he considered Severus' point. "He is teaching the students the importance of independent research," the old man said finally. The only answer to the rather lackluster answer was the slam of the door.

Swearing under his breath, Snape swept out of the tower in a raging fury, pale hands clenched and eyes scanning the halls for an unlucky victim. He was rounding near Gryffindor Tower when he heard the sounds of light crying.

He kept close to the walls, making himself invisible as he rounded the corner. He tripped when he saw Hermione Granger, the shock subsiding into reluctant approval when he saw she had her wand pointed somewhere around his chest faster than most seventh years could have. He had no idea if it was luck or skill, but there was a length of wood aimed at his heart nonetheless.

"Who's there!" she demanded, voice shaking, one hand reaching up to wipe her face. "Show yourself."

With a quick swish of his wand, Snape removed the spell. "Ten points from Gryffindor for pointing a wand at a teacher," he drawled, noting the girl's surprise.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said, tremor gone. "Although I must point out I had no idea you were a teacher." He had to stop himself from smirking at her protest.

"That's quite alright, Miss Granger," he said with a malicious smile. "I'll just take another ten points for insolence." His smile grew larger when he saw her blush. "Now would you care to explain why you are out past curfew?"

She shrugged. "I was feeling rebellious, Professor. Rebellious and depressed. And my dorm mates are simply awful when it comes to things like this," she added as almost an afterthought. "I suppose I'm babbling, am I not?"

"Yes, you are," he snapped. "And may I inquire what things?" Severus asked, a dangerous light glinting in his eyes. _If it is really something to be concerned about, Minerva will need to know._ "Although if you say 'boy troubles,' Miss Granger, I might give you detention for the rest of the year."

He was gratified by her small smile, and immediately scowled to disguise it. "It was my birthday, today," she informed him, crossing her arms. "Not that anyone remembered." A small frown appeared on her face. "I turned thirteen today," she whispered. "It was silly and foolish to sneak out though," she said at normal volume. "What will my punishment be, Professor?"

He looked at her, a strange compassion rising in him. He knew what it was like to be forgotten by everyone. "Getting back to your dorm without being seen," he said sternly. "Consider it your birthday present," he said snidely.

She stared at him in blatant shock. "Yes, Professor," she stammered. She took a few steps, then looked back. "Professor?"

"What?" he snapped. _I do have a limit to my kindnesses, Miss Granger. Don't push your luck._

She flinched, but persevered. "Thank you. And is nonverbal magic easy to learn?" _Curiosity must be etched onto her very bones,_ Severus thought with a scowl.

"You're welcome. And yes, it is very simple for an organized mind," he said, frowning. She nodded and left, disappearing behind a tapestry where he knew a secret passage lay. As soon as he was sure she was gone, he grinned. "And fifteen points to Gryffindor for recognizing a nonverbal incantation," he said under his breath.

* * *

Dumbledore and Snape were once again in the circular office at the top of the highest tower in Hogwarts. This time both were deeply immersed in their ancient tomes, neither paying much attention to the other, except to point out bits and pieces of information they had deemed important.

"It says here that Slytherin's monster was won at great cost and no few deaths," Severus said roughly. "It doesn't say what it was."

"The castle refuses to tell me where the Chamber is," Dumbledore intoned gravely. "It will only reveal Slytherin's secrets to the Heir."

Severus cursed quietly. "The Heir is no one in Slytherin," he said firmly. "Draco Malfoy would be the most likely suspect but for the fact that his bloodline is impeccable, and therefore known by everyone who's anyone. It is too public for any secrets of the sort, and if they were the descendants of Salazar himself, they would shout it from the rooftops. As would any other Slytherin."

The Headmaster nodded, accepting the analysis of his Head of House. "Harry will need to be watched closely," he mused. "Apparently he and his friends were coming back from Sir. Nicholas' Death Day party."

"Of all the stupid things," Severus muttered. "The Granger girl is doing fine in all her classes. The incident on the Quidditch Pitch has had some interesting results, however."

Dumbledore leaned forward, closing the dusty book he had taken from one of his many bookshelves. "Interesting results, you say? Elaborate."

"She has been looking into Wizarding genealogies," he said. "She was surprisingly strong in the face of Malfoy's insult. I'm not quite sure if it is ignorance or self-confidence though," Severus said frowning. "If she was hurt, she hid it well."

* * *

"She stole from me!" Severus raged, face red and hands clenching spasmodically. "She stole the bloody potions ingredients from my own bloody storeroom!"

Dumbledore stared at him, then laughed, a deep belly laugh that neither mocked nor sympathized. "Well, Severus?" he said, wheezing. "What did she steal?"

"Boomslang skin and bicorn horn," Snape muttered. "She's trying to make Polyjuice potion!" It was ambitious, foolhardy, stupid, and incredibly smart.

Of course, the old man just chuckled some more. "She is intelligent. I wonder if she can do it. And where she is doing it."

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," the Potions Master said roughly. "The fumes have discolored Myrtle- it's visible to anyone who knows the potion as well as a Potion's Master. Any more news from your contact in Albania?"

* * *

"What happened?" Severus demanded as he swooped into the Hospital Wing, having rushed from his quarters at Madam Pomfrey's Floo call.

All he could see were the four beds in the corner that housed the victims of the monster, and one other bed on the opposite side of the room that was curtained off. He stalked toward that one, cursing the idiocy of his dunderheaded students. When he reached the curtain, he pulled in back in one smooth motion, pausing only at the sight before him.

Madam Pomfrey was comforting Hermione Granger, who looked at him through yellow, slanted, cat eyes while her tail flicked and the two cat ears growing out of the top of her furry head twitched.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, and shook her head. "Miss Granger refuses to tell me what happened. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley brought her in." Walking away from the bed, she motioned him over, and spoke under her breath. "It's not a Transfiguration accident, and it is not a failed Animagus. She has fur covering most of her body, and the senses of a cat. She has also spoken of a craving for milk and yarn."

From the bed, Hermione spoke. "I can hear you, Madam Pomfrey," she said, still crying. "I shouldn't be able to hear you."

Severus snorted. "I know what's wrong," he said snidely. "I need to ask her some questions and then I think I can brew a potion that will return her to normal, or almost normal." Madam Pomfrey, nodded, then left for her office.

"I'll be in here if you need me," called the Matron. "Miss Granger, cooperate with Professor Snape unless you want a tail for the rest of your life."

When he approached the bed, he saw that she had stopped crying. "What are your questions?" Hermione asked with a watery sigh. "I might not be able to answer them," she said quietly.

"I have plenty of questions," Severus said grumpily. "We have to go over every step of the brewing process of the Polyjuice Potion, a very complex and fragile potion that _no thirteen year old should be attempting_ , to figure out where, exactly, you failed. Which should come at no surprise because," he said with a sneer, "You are only thirteen."

Hermione froze. "And why would you say I made Polyjuice Potion?" she asked cautiously.

"Because you stole boomslang skin and bicorn horn from my private storeroom," Severus growled. "I am not called a Potion Master for shits and giggles, Miss Granger."

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "Well. Then you should know I brewed it perfectly, but I put in a cat hair instead of a human hair." When he raised one eyebrow to demand an explanation, she grinned up at him, showing her pointed canines. "You can probably guess who else took some. They were fine- one hour, no problems."

"You are telling me you managed to brew one of the most complicated potions known to Wizard kind as a _thirteen year old?_ " Severus asked, incredulous. "How long do the lacewings need to stew?" he questioned.

"Twenty-one days," replied Hermione automatically. "The entire potion took me a month."

"What about the fluxweed?" Snape snapped, still not believing.

Hermione raised one eyebrow at him, and answered. "Picked at the full moon. I brewed it right, Professor. I just put in a cat hair I thought was a human hair."

Severus Snape was astounded. "And yet you are friends with those idiots," he muttered. "Explain to me, Miss Granger, how you gain any intellectual stimulation from your peers." _I had it hard enough and I had Lily._

Hermione smiled sadly. "Why do you think I read all the time?" They looked at each other, cat meeting human. His eyes were so black, so hypnotizing, so compelling that Hermione couldn't look away. But instead of thinking about his eyes, her mind was going to the abandoned bathroom.

No- she didn't want to think about it. With a great pull of her will, she forced her mind to think about something else, anything else. She had the sneaking feeling that she shouldn't be thinking about the bathroom, so she started reciting Theandral's Fourth Principle of Transfiguration.

Suddenly, the Professor broke eye contact, and turned. "I will start brewing the reversal potion, Miss Granger," he said, voice sounding very far away to the girl in the bed. "However, I'm afraid it will take several days to brew, then a few weeks until you are back to normal. Some things may not return entirely, like the limited sight and hearing. I will be able to rid you of the fur, ears, and tail."

"Th-thank you, Professor," she said, stumbling over the words. Her head was pounding, and she felt dizzy. She barely noticed when the Professor left, the door to the Hospital Wing swinging shut.

Instead of returning to the dungeons, Snape almost flew through the corridors of Hogwarts, heading straight for Dumbledore's office. He gave the password to the gargoyles, and waited impatiently as the stairs delivered him to the door.

"Enter," came Dumbledore's voice, before he had a chance to even knock. Severus knew it was because the small portrait on the landing informed him, and so he gave it a world class sneer before striding into the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore looked pleased to see him, smiling broadly and gesturing toward a seat. "Severus! Sit, my boy. What news have you for me/"

"Hermione Granger has a formidable talent for Occlumency," he said in a rush, pacing instead of taking the proffered seat. "She pushed me away from the memory she didn't want me to see. Last year at Halloween, her mind was easily accessible. Now it's…" he stopped, at a loss for words.

Dumbledore sighed, then steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "It seems you have much to tell me, Severus."

"I do," said the pacing man, more energetic than Dumbledore had seen him in months. "Hermione Granger managed to brew a perfect Polyjuice potion in a month, and the only reason she's in the Hospital Wing right now is that she mistook a cat hair for a human hair. Potter and Weasley successfully impersonated two people for an hour," he said with a frown. "Can we expel them?" That would make this day perfect. He noticed that he could not quite keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

"No," Dumbledore said sternly. "In a month, you say? She's only twelve." Both men had sufficient Potions knowledge to know that it should have been impossible.

"Thirteen," Severus corrected. "Her birthday was in September." The correction did not slide under Dumbledore's considerable nose, but was disregarded for the moment.

"And she resisted your attempts at Legilimency?" Dumbledore inquired. "How hard did you push her?" The old man was leaning forward in his throne-like chair, blue eyes boring into Severus' face.

"Middling strength," Severus admitted. "She wouldn't have resisted a full strength attack. But she's completely untrained! At Halloween last year, her mind was open!" _She must have done research on organized minds after our little conversation in September. And she learned that quickly? How? And she shouldn't have known Theandral's Principle either. How much extra reading has this girl been doing?_

"Interesting," Dumbledore said. "I think we should arrange for weekly lessons. How long should she be in the Hospital Wing?"

"At least five weeks," Snape said, almost regretfully. "Mayhaps more." He stopped pacing, and took a seat in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Then it is decided," Dumbledore announced with a decisive nod. "When she leaves the Hospital Wing she should have lessons."

* * *

It was four weeks into Hermione's hospital stay when Severus realized how dull his Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were without Hermione Granger in his classes. They were also far more dangerous, as Longbottom consistently melted every cauldron, blew up every potion, and generally botched anything and everything he possibly could. Without Granger whispering in his ear, he couldn't make valuable ingredients explode fast enough.

When she finally did leave the Hospital Wing, she surprised him completely with her ability to miss more than a month of classes and still be able to answer every question correctly.

"It was like she never left," Severus told Dumbledore the next week. "The only difference is that Potter and Weasley have gotten better grades this week than they have in the last five. That's all."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, and asked, "Do you think she will be a fast learner? Do you think she'll be able to do everything she'll need to do?"

"Yes," Severus answered immediately. "As foolish as she is for associating with those idiots, she is the fastest learner I've ever seen." A thought struck him, and he asked, "Have you ever seen her in her classes?"

"No," Dumbledore said, pondering then nodding. "I should observe all of Harry's classes. It would be good for me to see how he and the Granger girl interact, and how smart they both are. It will not do if she does all his work for him and he never learns."

Severus stood and snorted as he walked to the door. "Of course not," he said. "It wouldn't do for the Boy-Who-Lives to be stupid and lazy. It wouldn't do at all."

* * *

"What the bloody hell does this girl think she is doing?" asked Severus horrified. "Albus! She wants to take _every single extra class_ Hogwarts offers!"

Dumbledore frowned deeply, more lines appearing in his old face. "That will be difficult. I can ask Minerva to rearrange the schedule, but that would mean she would have to have one class cut down. We need to turn this to our advantage."

"What would you have done in the past?" asked Severus. "Who was the last person to want to take all the electives?" Would the girl make history? He couldn't think of anyone who had taken all the electives.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not know. Even dear old Tom didn't take Muggle Studies. And he was one of the most brilliant students Hogwarts has ever seen."

Severus shuddered to think of what would have happened if Hermione had not befriended Weasley and Potter. He could see her retreating into her books, with no emotional attachments, prime fodder for the Dark Lord to sway.

* * *

The Hospital Wing was empty but for the petrified victims. Severus entered quietly, and made his way to Hermione's bed. The girl was frozen completely, eyes wide and one hand outstretched as if holding something, and the other was clenched in a fist.

He was curious about the hand in front of her- how did she know to look around the corner with a mirror? Did she know what the monster was?

"If only you could talk, Miss Granger," he murmured softly. "I believe your cleverness has an answer we desperately need."

It would only be three weeks before the Mandrakes would be ready. Three weeks. The good fortune couldn't come soon enough- the dunderhead Fudge had made a grave mistake removing Dumbledore as Headmaster. A grave mistake.

* * *

"You are off now to give the Draught, my boy?" Dumbledore asked his Potions Master. Severus' private lab was always a sight. Three or four potions were bubbling in stasis, a rod or spoon stirring occasionally. The counters, as well as the floor and walls, were made of stone, but kept clean and bright, aside from the shadowy corners for potions that needed to be kept in the dark. There were several large cupboards full of ingredients, and a long row of shelves containing every potion imaginable behind glass and wards.

The Potions Master himself was a sight to behold as he chopped, then dumped the roots and stirred the potion with one hand as he crushed silvery beetles in a mortar with the other. When the beetles were a grey powder, he sprinkled some in the draught as he twitched his other hand and called forth a vial of a suspicious looking red liquid from the end of the table.

"I'm busy," he said tersely, upending the vial in the potion. "It'll be done in twenty seven turns." Severus wasn't even looking at the Headmaster- eyes focused on the color of the potion. However, when the old man opened his mouth to speak again, Severus spoke again. "If I have to hear your voice, I'll lose my concentration and four days' work will have gone to waste," he said, voice in jerky rhythm with his stirs.

Dumbledore, quite wisely, left the lab.

Twenty minutes later, Severus was transporting the Mandrake Restorative Draught to the Hospital Wing, where the five victims lay in their frozen slumber.

"Poppy," he said cordially, handing over the vials to her. "Would you appreciate some assistance?" Madam Pomfrey held a special place in his heart- cold and shriveled as most thought it was. She had been kind to him as a child, healing him when he stumbled into the Hospital Wing with the remnants of whatever torment the Marauders had dreamed up. And later, when he dragged himself there after the tortures of the Dark Lord, she had healed him with no lingering glances at his left arm.

She seemed surprised, but accepted his offer. "Can you take care of Miss Granger and Miss Clearwater?" He nodded, taking two of the vials and making his way over to their beds.

He decided to awake Miss Granger first, setting the vials on the bedside table. He had heard the story from the Headmaster, about how Miss Granger had been the one to figure out the monster was a basilisk. He figured she deserved to be woken first.

Her mouth was closed, so he put his hand under her chin, so it was cupping her face. The warmth felt strange, foreign to a man who had almost no human contact. Her face was so small, so fragile. Slowly, he massaged her jaw until her mouth opened enough for him to pour the potion in. He rubbed her throat, watching her carefully as the color returned to her face, neck, hands, and finally the ankles that poked out from beneath her robes.

"Miss Granger," he said loudly. "Are you awake yet?"

With a startled gasp, she shot forward, eyes frantic, as she heaved and coughed, trying to say something, grabbing his arm and clutching it. Although every instinct told him to pull away, he patted her back awkwardly and gave her water until she could speak.

"It's a basilisk," she rasped, still coughing horribly. "That's Slytherin's monster, it's traveling through the pipes to get around the school."

Severus, now almost used to her surprises, nearly smiled. He had been right. "We know, Miss Granger," he said as reassuringly as he could. "It has been taken care of by Mr. Potter. He found the paper you had in your hand and killed it." He looked down at her, and sneered. "Now if you could kindly release my arm."

She blushed and let go, coughing again. "Sorry," she said. "But did you say _Harry_ killed it?"

"Yes," said the Professor. "He discovered what it was and immediately rushed to tackle it himself. He ended up facing it and a specter of the Dark Lord alone." He couldn't quite keep the derision from his tone, but the girl either didn't take notice, or didn't care.

"Alone!" Hermione squeaked. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, Hermione!" she said under her breath.

"Do you care to explain?" asked Severus curiously. _Is she honestly blaming herself for not being there? Merlin, she is going to play right into Albus' hands._

Hermione sighed. "I try to make sure every time he rushes off into danger by himself he had either me or Ronald Weasley with him. That way he doesn't get into a situation like that alone." She frowned, and looked up at the stern man who was hated by so much of the school. "Was Ron with him?"

"Yes," Severus said brusquely. "But for the entire story you'll have to ask them. I have another patient. Drink more water and don't try to stand for another ten minutes."

He repeated the process on the Ravenclaw girl who was with Granger when they were attacked, giving her brisk instructions and going to help Madam Pomfrey spray the draught on Sir Nick. As he worked on the ghost, he could hear the two girls talking.

"You saved my life. Thank you. It's Hermione, right?"

"Yes. And thank you for saying thank you."

"How did you figure out what the monster was?"

"I just put all the facts together…" She went on to explain briefly, and he was amazed once more at her logic and memory.

What would Hermione Granger bring to the Wizarding World?

* * *

"She needs to start training immediately," Severus said softly. "She would probably be willing." The was a bitter tone to his voice, as he pictured the girl he had seen that night so soon after school had restarted- the girl who was crying because her friends didn't remember her birthday.

Albus smiled in a decidedly self-satisfied manner, piercing blue eyes pleased. "Good strategic move, Severus," he praised, nodding. "So soon after the near death of her friend Harry Potter when he stumbled into danger all by himself would be the perfect time to humbly ask her to try to protect him."

Severus' lip pulled back in a sneer of disgust. "No," he retorted. "For some reason she seems to genuinely care for the boy. Add to that she's both a Gryffindor, and a naïve child who believes everyone is in need of her aid, and you've got yourself the perfect protector."

"You seem upset," Albus remarked. "Didn't you want a part in her training?"

Severus allowed a nasty grin to spread across his face. "I have a choice in the matter? She needs to learn Occlumency, perhaps some Legilimency, self-defense and defense of another person, knife fighting, dueling, how to lie, act, and manipulate." He let his words hover in the tense air for a moment before openly mocking the Headmaster. "Or I suppose you could teach her the last three. But I doubt you'd want to reveal your hand to someone so near Harry Potter."

Albus' eyes went from genial to icy in a flash, hinting at the danger that lay beneath the guise of an old man. "Do not try my patience, Severus."

"Of course not, Headmaster," he said sarcastically. "Who else would you want to teach the impertinent chit?"

Albus Dumbledore had saved a smirk of his own for that very moment. "Well, I could convince Alastor Moody to train her. And Kingsley Shacklebolt would be delighted to help. And I could teach her Occlumency and Legilimency."

"You would do it wrong," Severus said, surprised at himself but hiding it. "I suppose I will have to help after all. Is Mad-Eye really necessary?" _The old Auror is so paranoid he'd believe his own mother was trying to poison him_ , Severus though grumpily.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, smiling happily once more. "I'll approach her in the morning. Can you visit Safe House Three to make sure that all is in order?"

With a sneer and a mock bow, Severus swept out of the room to do his master's bidding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 2. 
> 
> Things start getting interesting in the next chapter - the major divergence begins!
> 
> Kudos are always appreciated, and I quite adore comments! It's much easier to reply here than it is on FFN. 
> 
> See you next Monday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who commented on the last chapter - enjoying hearing from all of you! On to Chapter 3!

**_Chapter 3_ **

"Enter." Dumbledore intoned, pulling a grandfatherly, yet serious smile onto his face. He was wearing unusually subdued robes, doing his best to look the part of earnest, your-wellbeing-is-at-the-front-of-my-mind, grandfatherly Headmaster.

The door creaked open, and the girl walked in. He appraised the way she walked, timid in the face of authority, eyes wide as she took in the magnitude of books and interesting instruments scattered around the room. She was nothing much to look at- a riotous mass of bushy brown curls, a stubborn chin, and intelligent brown eyes. Her current expression was awe- exactly what the Headmaster wanted it to be.

"Miss Granger," he said warmly. "Please, sit. Would you like a lemon drop?" She dropped into the seat he waved at, but shook her head at the candy.

"No, thank you," she said, blushing faintly. "Sugar is quite bad for the teeth." Her blush deepened, and she ducked her head.

The comment stumped Dumbledore for a moment until he remembered that her parents were Muggle tooth-Healers. Well. Normally, his lemon drops were laced with very light traces of a Calming potion, very useful when dealing with distraught teachers and politicians, or even the occasional rowdy student. He had planned…

But he shook off the change in plan, and tucked the candy away. "Do you know why I called you here, Miss Granger?" he asked. He assumed she would say something about test scores or grades, but he was surprised once again.

"Harry," she replied immediately, head rising to meet his eyes. "It has to do with Harry Potter." She looked straight at him, eyes narrowed slightly. "He is my best friend," she said slowly, "Which makes a slight bit of trouble for you."

"Quite the opposite, actually," Dumbledore countered. "But yes, Harry is the reason we are here on this fine morning." _Why would it be a problem for her to be a friend of Harry's?_

Just then, Severus entered the room, as dramatic as ever with his robes billowing and a scowl on his face. "I was _busy,_ Headmaster," he drawled. "But I am here now, so can we please make this quick?" His eyes darted to where Hermione sat, hands folded in her lap and different set on her face- one that Severus recognized as confusion. It was not an expression she wore often, and the fact that she was wearing it now told Severus everything he needed to know about the course of the meeting.

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said with a smile, eyes flashing in a warning. "Just the man I wanted to see. I was just explaining to Miss Granger-"

"You haven't explained anything," Snape snapped. "Or she wouldn't be sitting here, docile as a lamb." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl start with indignation. He sneered.

With a huff, he turned to face her, seeing that she refused to flinch and admiring her for it. "Miss Granger," he said brusquely, "The Headmaster asked you to his office today, not to talk about your…" he let his voice trail off before adding a slight stress to his next word. " _Remarkable_ scores. Indeed, he wants to ask you to put your life in danger by becoming a bodyguard, so to speak, for the walking trouble magnet named Potter."

She looked up at him, then at Dumbledore. "Is that true?" she asked, voice shaking. "What exactly is it you want me to do?"

Dumbledore glared at Severus, before turning his attention to the girl-child and answering her question. "Take extra classes and training over the summer, and when you are back in school. Learn defensive spells and offensive spells that can be used in situations like the ones Mr. Potter has found himself in last year and this year."

"You want me to learn extra magic so I can help Harry more if he gets into trouble?" Hermione asked, relief in her voice. "Of course I'd want to help. I've done what I can so far, but if I can learn more-"

"Don't run into this blind," Snape warned, cutting her off. "What the Headmaster isn't saying is that you will learn other techniques, such as the art of manipulation and lying." His lip curled at the shock on her face. "The Dark Lord is not truly vanquished, Miss Granger," he said smoothly. "Every day, he gets closer to returning. You cannot reveal your status to Potter or Weasley. You must learn how to defend your mind from intrusion, how to fight with or without a wand, and how to protect without seeming to protect. You must sacrifice an extraordinary reputation as to not draw attention to yourself. It is important you know that in defending Potter, you may die."

Fear was plain on Hermione's face, but she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. "But this will help keep Harry safe?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied before Severus had a chance to open his mouth again. "Harry is in constant danger. If you learn these things, and just stay by his side, you can make sure that no one harms our only hope."

Hermione's mouth tilted up in a kind of bitter grin. As out of place as it should have appeared on the face of a thirteen year old, it fit both the girl and the situation. "May I speak frankly, Professor?" she asked.

"Of course," Dumbledore said, fingering his wand under his desk. If she refused, she would be Obliviated. No one else could know about their conversation.

She nodded at Severus, then spoke. "I have the feeling you are feeding me a pile of dragon dung and calling it treacle tart, Professor," she said annoyance dripping into her tone even as her voice wavered. Where she could not see, Severus bit back a laugh. "I'll do it- but, but not because someone needs to defend 'our only hope.' I am always interested in learning more, but to top that, Harry is my best friend. I'd do anything to keep him safe anyway." Even though she stammered through it, she met the Headmaster's icy blue eyes and promptly blushed. "Sir."

Dumbledore's crooked nose had a set to it- it seemed like he was worried he had dangerously misjudged Miss Granger. "Very well," he said at last. "Someone will come to pick you up at your parent's house two days after the break begins. I will need that long to get you special dispensation for you to use a wand outside of the school."

* * *

The remaining days of the break passed far too slowly for Hermione- the gregarious leaner inside her was eagerly waiting the chance to learn new spells. And if she wasn't too excited about the conditioning type things Professor Snape had mentioned, she would put up with it for the chance to learn more magic.

But Hermione Granger was not a stupid girl. There had been a power play going on in that room. She knew that she had arrived there as a chess piece for something larger than she could yet understand- she was there to be manipulated into doing something for someone. She also knew that when she had made an attempt to turn the tables on the Headmaster he had not taken it well. Some of the huge tomes that Hermione had borrowed from the Library for some light reading had mentioned Obliviation. If Professor Snape had not taken her side, well, she feared that she would have woken up in her dorm with a small chunk of her memory missing.

On the last day of term, the scarlet Hogwarts Express arrived in the station with a billow of smoke and a smiling conductor. The compartments were quickly filled, and before Hermione knew it, she was hugging Harry and Ron goodbye. Her parents were waiting for her, off to the side and looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Mum, Dad," she said politely, pasting a smile on her face and pecking her mother on the cheek. They were in the car before either one of her parents spoke.

It was her mother. That was what hurt most. "When will they be coming to take you away?" Mrs. Granger asked, voice unreadable.

"Two days," Hermione replied, forehead creasing. "Did Professor Dumbledore contact you?"

"No," said her father. "An unpleasant man with awful teeth." They just stared ahead at the road, winding unassumingly into the approaching twilight of Great Britain.

_Professor Snape,_ she thought, nodding to herself. "Oh," was all she said. The rest of the drive passed in silence.

* * *

Professor Snape scowled at the plain white door that was currently blocking his way. He rang the doorbell briefly, listening to the charming tone play once inside the house.

The door was answered by a tall man with chestnut hair sprinkled heavily with grey. He looked at Severus blankly, recognition changing his expression for only a moment. "You're here for her?" he questioned.

"Yes," Snape said, stepping into the house when the man stepped inside. "Is she prepared?" The man just nodded.

Hermione appeared on the stairs, pulling down a heavy trunk. Severus stepped forward, catching hold of the handle before it tumbled to the ground and spilled its contents. "If school were in session that would be ten points for clumsiness, Miss Granger," he said silkily. "For the sake of the poor trunk, I will hold it when we Apparate."

She blushed, and nodded. "Do you have your wand, Miss Granger?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Of course," she said. "It's in my trunk." She realized her mistake when the scowl on her Professor's face deepened.

"And that would be fifty," Severus drawled. "For if I was the Dark Wizard that my reputation portrays me as, you and your family would be dead by now, and you would have died helpless and without a fight. Retrieve it." He smirked as she bent down and hastily scrambled in her neat trunk for the precious length of wood, sighing happily when it touched her fingers.

Quickly, she closed the trunk and stood straight, grinning happily. In Muggle clothes, she looked much younger than she usually did. Her bushy hair was gathered back in a strict braid, but errant strands were already creating a halo of wisps around her head. She was at the point when she was just gangly limbs and slowly slimming face.

"I'm ready now, Professor," she said, smile fading as she glanced at her father. Severus followed the direction of her gaze. It seemed that there was some story to be told concerning her parents. He doubted she had been abused, but neglect could be as bad as a beating with some children. He had seen both in all his years as a teacher.

He glared at her. "So be it. We will do this here, as to not attract attention. Have you said your goodbyes?" She nodded, and he offered her his arm. She stared at it, confused.

"You, Miss Granger," he said snidely, "Are too young to Apparate. Even if you did try, you'd probably Splinch yourself. So, I am going to Side-Along you. That requires you holding tightly to my arm. I suggest you do so if you do not want to end up in Dublin."

She gulped and grabbed his arm, waving to her father, who nodded at her. She felt Professor Snape turn, and she was squeezed through a tight steel tube that was compressing her ribs and her hips and her _lungs_ before she was spat out into a pleasant garden.

It was neat and green, with flowers blooming in rows and trellises hanging laden with vines and buds. There was a path, lined with stones and well kept. At the end of the path was a cottage, thatched with golden straw and as charming as a fairytale. Hermione was in love- it was exactly the kind of place she had dreamed of when she read all those fantasy books as a child.

"Come along," Snape snapped, disposition clearly unaffected by the beautiful atmosphere. He took brisk steps toward the cottage, taking her trunk and carrying it with him. "If you keep your mouth open like that flies will soon take residence." She blushed, and followed him. The flowers were beautiful, petals all in vibrant shades of various colors.

They reached the cottage, and Severus raised a fist to knock on the door, knuckles rapping on the wood in a precise pattern. A man's voice came through, rough and wary. "The pass phrase?"

"The phoenix lights the night," drawled Severus. Hermione could detect the annoyance dripping from his voice. "Let me _in_ , Moody."

"Not so fast, Death Eater," the voice growled. "Why did Albus call you here?" Hermione looked up at the Professor, wondering where she had heard the word _Death Eater_ before. It unsettled her, sparking a feeling of distrust. Where had she read it?

Severus clenched his fists. "To train the little bodyguard. Let me _in_ , Mad-Eye!" Hermione shivered-the look on his face was terrible. But the door opened into a sunlit room full of carefully crafted wooden furniture and pots of flowers.

As they cautiously stepped inside the room, the door swung shut and a grizzled man appeared, limping heavily with his wooden leg and glaring at them with his one normal eye. Hermione had to bite back a gasp of fear when she saw his other eye- swiveling around in the back of his head and returning to stare right at her before returning to the inside of his skull.

"Mad-Eye Moody," Snape drawled, "Meet Hermione Granger."

The man stared at her in blatant shock, collapsing into one of the delicate wooden chairs. "This wee lass is supposed to stop your mates from eating the Boy-Who-Lived alive? Merlin help us all."

Hermione glared right back, justifiably insulted if she did say so herself. "I was asked for a reason," she said, cross. "Do you really think Professor Dumbledore would choose someone inadequate to protect Harry Potter and then tell people about it?"

Moody stared at her for a moment longer, the burst out laughing, although it sounded more like rusty gears grinding "I like her," he said between chortles. "Albus chose well." Then, fixing her with his good eye, he nodded. "And he wouldn't do something stupid like that, either," he said.

"If you are done, we need to get to the real safe house," Severus pointed out. "Where is the passage out of the illusion?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione pout a bit. He had to bite back a smirk- he had noticed her adoration of the idyllic cottage.

"Hold yer hippogriffs, Snape," the man said, rising with some difficulty. "I'm gettin' to it." Hermione watched curiously as Moody hobbled over to a charmingly carved wardrobe and flung open the doors.

"Just walk through," he said. "Muggleborn lass got the idea from a book she read a few years ago. Bloody good one, too."

" _The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe_ ," Hermione murmured. "Thank you, Mr. Moody," she said with a polite nod. The old man seemed nice enough, even if he had been rude to Professor Snape.

The grizzled old man gave her a predatory grin. "This ain't the last you've seen of me, girlie. I'll be around soon."

"Unfortunately," Snape drawled, inclining his head toward the wardrobe, "We need to be off. After you, Miss Granger." She smiled at Moody, then turned to determinedly walk into the array of furry coats that hung before her.

She moved forward cautiously, one hand held out in front of her, only to hit wood. She panicked, feeling around the smooth expanse for a handle of any sort. A doorknob was her reward; with a flood of relief the endless wardrobe gave way to a lit room.

She stepped forward, looking around curiously. She had emerged from a similar wardrobe, which looked quite out of place in the clean and practical room. The walls and floor were two similar shades of beige, there were no windows, and only one door. The room itself was very tiny, and housed only the wardrobe and a portrait.

From behind her, Severus stepped through the wooden doors carrying her trunk. "Come along, Miss Granger," he snapped.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, casting a wistful glance back at the wardrobe. The cottage?"

Severus scowled. "Don't get too attached, Miss Granger. It was merely an illusion." He strode ahead of her, directly to the portrait.

"Oh," Hermione said, frowning a bit and moving aside.

"Severus Snape and Hermione Granger requesting permission to enter Safe House Three," Severus said, enunciating carefully. The picture was of an old man with a huge belly packed into in a chair, walrus mustache moving with his snores. A red velvet smoking jacket was stretched tightly across his midsection, and a lit cigar was dangling precariously from his fingertips.

He jolted awake, however, when he heard Severus' voice. "Who's there?" he said, eyes darting warily. When he saw Snape, he started again. "Snape. Who's that with you?" The beady little eyes narrowed suspiciously at Hermione, who kept her face calm.

"My ward," Severus said. "Albus should have told you already that we were coming."

The painting nodded reluctantly. "He did." Slowly, the door next to him swung open, revealing a warm, welcoming room, complete with crackling fire and earth-toned armchairs.

Severus strode through the door, snapping, "Come along," when she stalled. She followed, looking at the room in wonder. In one armchair, a sandy haired man was sprawled in sleep, snoozing gently. Hermione looked up at Snape, noting the anger that clouded his features. Snape's impressive nostrils flared, and his lips were in a tight line.

"Wake up, dog," he snapped, rousing the man and earning a reproachful glance from his charge. "Miss Granger, wipe the disapproval from your face- I'm not one of your idiotic boys- and come here." She obeyed his instructions, moving into the light and warmth of the fire. In the back of her mind she wondered why it was so cold in the beginning of June, but she pushed it away.

The man opened tawny eyes, a blinked sleepily up at her, running a hand through his messy hair. His clothes were well-worn and rumpled from sleep, and the dim light from the fire showed Hermione that he had several scars on his face and hands, and that, despite his nap, he sported bruised shadows under his eyes. "Miss Granger, I am Remus Lupin. Delighted to make your acquaintance." He held out a hand, which she accepted and pumped twice.

"Hermione Granger," she said, unnecessarily since he already knew her name. "Likewise."

Snape scoffed in the background. "Mr. Lupin will be teaching you most of what you'll need to know. He will also be joining the _esteemed_ Hogwarts faculty as next year's Defense professor." There was an extra ounce of hatred in his voice when he said that. Hermione remembered someone saying something about Snape hating Lockhart because he had gotten the Defense position. Maybe Snape hated Lupin because he had gotten the job this year?

Uncomfortably aware of the tension between the two men, Hermione smiled tightly. "Lovely," she said cheerily. "Is this where we'll be staying?"

"Just you and me, Miss Granger," Lupin replied, rising from the chair and stretching with an accompaniment of painful sounding cracks. "And Nymphadora Tonks. Severus-"

"I have to return to my other duties," Snape said stiffly. "There is a staff of two house elves and other adults will be stopping in as their busy schedules allow."

Hermione nodded, a slight panic rising from the pit of her belly to her throat. "Will you be stopping in?" Snape, as unsavory as he was, was still the only person she knew here.

"Occasionally," he said. "I must be off. I will see you in two days, Miss Granger." With a sharp nod in her direction and a glare in Lupin's, he spun on his heel and disappeared through the door.

Hermione was left standing with Remus Lupin, eyeing him warily. "Nymphadora Tonks was a seventh year Hufflepuff when I was a first year, if I remember correctly," she said cautiously. "Why is she here?"

"I'm here because I'm an Auror and I need additional training," a cheerful voice said as a shadowy figure emerged from another hallway off the sitting room. "And if I hear you call me Nymphadora ever again I will hex you to pieces in training."

Hermione stared in amazement as the girl's hair changed from bubblegum pink to an electric purple. "What should I call you then?" Hermione asked, feeling more and more out of her depth every second.

"Tonks," the Hufflepuff said confidently. "And I'm a-"

"Metamorphmagus, I know," Hermione said, smiling self-consciously. "Characterized by the ability to change various features swiftly and without the use of a wand or conscious spell."

Remus could hardly hold back his laughter as he watched the girls get to know one another. Tonks offered to demonstrate different noises as she showed Hermione to her room, and the girl gladly accepted. He could hear the sounds of Hermione's giggles grow fainter and fainter until they stopped on the second floor.

"This is your room," Tonks informed Hermione, morphing her nose to a shape more socially acceptable than a pig snout. "Mine is down the hall."

Hermione set her trunk down, and looked around the room. It was on the small side, but it had enough space for her. There was a nice writing desk, a chest of drawers, a bookshelf, a bed, a lamp, and a nightstand all in dark wood. The bed was made with a thick quilt and the tiny window showed sunlight filtering through the heavy branches of a tree.

"This is nice," Hermione said thankfully. "How long have you been here?"

"Almost four days," Tonks replied. "I finished with the first part of my Auror training last month. Then I spent a few weeks with my mum and dad, and came here." Hermione nodded, then pointed her wand at her trunk and whispered a spell. "You can do magic out of school?"

"The Headmaster got me special permission," Hermione said gravely. "Did anyone tell you why I'm going to be training with you?" _I wonder how many people know?_

"Harry Potter," said Tonks. "Apparently he is the strongest trouble magnet of this century. You won't believe how many times Dumbledore swore me to secrecy." Tonks rolled her eyes, a sentiment Hermione shared. "Does he really get into that much trouble?" She had a disbelieving look on her face- from what Hermione could tell, Tonks was doubtful about the validity of the stories about Harry she had heard.

"More," Hermione said wryly. "And because I usually drag myself along to all of his adventures, the Man in the Tower decided that I needed special training to keep us alive." _It's not like I haven't been doing that on my own for the past two years._

"Useful," Tonks said. "I'm going to be a student/teacher/chaperone. So I get to learn plenty and I get to teach you. Win-win for both of us." She nodded at the open trunk. "Do you want help unpacking?"

"I think I know a spell that will do it for me," Hermione said, a bit absentmindedly." I've been dying to try it out." With another swish of her wand, the clothes and books in her trunk flew up, returned to their normal size, then fled to their proper places- except for a few rouge socks that tried to find a place on the bookshelf. Hermione frowned at them, and flicked her wand again.

Tonks watched, impressed. "Wow," she exclaimed, walking over to peer into the closet. "You managed to get them color coded!"

Hermione grinned self-consciously. She liked this Metamorphmagus. "The book said that for the most precision, to keep the wrist stiff."

The conversation continued as the two girls left Hermione's room and walked down to the kitchen for lunch. The rest of the house was simple, dark wood and low ceilings with wooden floors and faded flowered wallpaper. Tonks pointed out the various rooms as they came across them: training room, gym, library, sitting room.

"Welcome to Safe House Three," said Tonks. "I suspect we are somewhere in Iceland. But don't trust me on that."

* * *

By mid-July, Hermione was exhausted, exhilarated, and about three times more deadly than she had been in May.

Alastor Moody had taken her through hell and back in a refitted training room in the depths of the safe house. With the help of fear, study, and repetition, Hermione had managed to learn more than the basics of dueling. Tonks had helped there- as clumsy as she was, the Auror-in-training had an amazing repertoire of spells that she gladly imparted to Hermione. She had yet to beat either of them, but even at thirteen, Hermione was a fast learner who had no qualms about fighting dirty. (Well, at first she had qualms, but Moody had gotten rid of those quickly. Very quickly.)

Moody had also been in charge of physical conditioning- something both Hermione and Tonks had started out detesting. However, while Tonks still hated all the running, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find that she was starting to enjoy exercise. That still didn't mean she jumped with joy when Moody announced the obstacle course or sparring, but she didn't walk into the gym with the fear and queasy anticipation she once did.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, a rising star in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, stopped by every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday to teach martial arts, the clever details of Magical Law Enforcement, and a variety of spells taught mainly to Aurors. As a tall, ebony, and principled man in the Ministry, Kingsley stuck out like a sore thumb. Adding to the fact he had only arrived in England a few years ago, Kinsley was the perfect tutor for the twists and turns of the law in Magical Britain- he saw all the irregularities and was able to explain them to Hermione.

Andromeda Tonks was also a frequent visitor, to both the delight and horror of Tonks- Andromeda was supposed to be teaching them poise, manners, how to lie, and the art of manipulation. According to Tonks, her mother had tried to teach her all these things for years, with no visible success. Hermione however, took to them like a fish to water. She could see how surprised Tonks was at this- but Hermione was a good liar, had some memories of grace- like many other girls her age, she had been forced into ballet for a few years when she was younger. At least until all the frilly pink tutus vanished mysteriously overnight in a move that _no one_ could blame on Hermione but everyone did anyway.

Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and the soon-to-be Professor Lupin were all tutoring her in third, fourth, and even fifth year spells, and how to use their fields of study in defense of another person. Lupin had no problem with Hermione guarding Harry- but it was clear to the girl that both McGonagall and Flitwick were there and teaching her under duress. It was not that they did not want to teach her- they were all proud of her progress. It was just that they were loath to see their best student get hurt protecting someone else. But Hermione persevered, nightmares of giant snakes eating Harry giving her all the motivation she needed to defend the cloth dummy with everything she could dream up.

When Hermione had discovered Lupin's lycanthropy, she had been scared for about half an hour before she decided to ask him about it. After a long explanation and discussion, Hermione had privately decided that he was a better man than most, and she didn't care if he turned into a ravening wolf once a month. She was enraged on his behalf when he told her about all the anti-werewolf legislation that had been passed preventing him from procuring employment. Her reaction had endeared her to the professor and after that they spent many evenings playing chess and discussing various discriminatory laws (and fiction books).

But Hermione's favorite teacher- to her surprise- was Snape. Although they spent time on Potions briefly, he was the one who gave her three knives and briskly ordered her to throw them at a target every day until she could consistently hit the target. And once she could hit the target, he charmed it to float in slow random patterns. Then it floated faster, grew smaller, and decided to disappear and reappear randomly. And once she could hit those, he showed her forms to practice every day, evaluating her progress and drawling helpful bits of advice and biting criticism.

Occlumency and, to a lesser extent, Legilimency, were also taught to her by the dour Potions Master. He gave her books, then swooped in once a week at various times, called for a lesson, gave her a moment to steel herself, and then delved into her mind.

She was improving, slowly but surely. Now she could keep him out of her mind for long and longer periods of time, and she could deflect a simple probe quickly. Snape was also teaching her the art of creating fake memories to line the surface of her mental barriers, hiding the barriers under the casual thoughts and memories of a very boring schoolgirl.

Although she had been wary of him at first, after a few weeks she discovered that, outside Hogwarts, Snape was less… nasty. Instead of snapping, he ordered brusquely. Rather than make a cruel joke, he used his wit to make an acerbic _valid_ comment. He was more relaxed as well, and actually asked her opinion on various topics. Over time, she grew bolder with him, making comments of her own. Once or twice, she could have sworn she saw him crack a smile or two before he blinked and it disappeared.

Hermione was flourishing in Safe House Three. She had grown at least an inch, and was becoming rather fit thanks to Moody and Kingsley. Minny and Dobby, the house elf Harry had freed the year before, (Hermione had been very against the entire idea of a house elf until she had, under Snape's snarling directive, talked with both Dobby and Minny for a few hours one rare free afternoon), kept the inhabitants of the house well fed and comfortable.

Hermione was growing to be a rather formidable teenager.

And she liked it.

* * *

"Granger!" barked Moody. "Potter is now dead. Dead. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The old Auror was shouting, but Hermione was more than accustomed to it by now. Her examination of the body of the cloth dummy continued without even a flinch- how had they gotten around her defenses?

Moody had come at her from the front, and Tonks from the side. She had been given a very valuable wall at her back. So how had they gotten to him? She was fine- but the dummy had a daunting hole in the front of his chest. "What spell did you use?"

The next time, she would get it right.

* * *

"Have you been doing the exercises I gave you to keep limber?" asked Snape brusquely, staring down his nose at Hermione.

She nodded. "Yes, sir," she answered. "Once or twice every day."

He considered her for a moment, then shrugged off his black teaching robes that he wore, even in the full heat of summer. Underneath he was wearing a white button down shirt and black slacks. While Hermione tried not to stare ( _he wears white?_ ) he rolled up his sleeves, and from his sheaths somewhere (he was _fast_ ) he pulled two knives.

"Today, Miss Granger," drawled the Potions Master, a small grin on his face, "We shall spar."

Hermione gulped. "Fight, sir? But-"

"But nothing, Miss Granger," Severus snapped. "Get your knives. Will you be able to move quickly in those clothes?"

Her knives were located in sheaths on the small of her back. She slid them out, feeling their heft in her palms. She could feel the thump of her heart in her ribs, but she tried to push it away. "Yes, sir."

"Do you know why I'm teaching you to fight with knives?" Severus asked brusquely. 

Hermione frowned at him. "Um- it might be good from a distance?" she offered. 

Snape shook his head. "No. Witches and wizards use their wands and their wands alone - they rarely even consider the possibility that an opponent would offer any kind of physical offensive. The most important trick in any dangerous situation is always to have something up your sleeve - and with knives, you can have many surprises hidden on your body. You may be disarmed and lose your wand, but you will always have a Plan B." 

For a moment, Hermione considered this information. "But - you've just had me throwing knives all summer!"

The man scowled at her. "Fine. It may come in handy one day. But, for all I've taught you about throwing knives, _never do this in a combat situation._ Why, Miss Granger?" He began stretching, and she followed his lead.

Her first answer felt obvious, but she said it anyway. "Because you lose a knife?"

"Yes. In a high adrenaline situation, you will probably miss. And now you just thrown away your weapon. There are two basic grips when fighting- hammer, which is what you use for slashing and blocking. This other one- no, _here_ , Miss Granger- is used for stabbing." He demonstrated both, and she watched carefully. "You can throw knives _only_ if you have more than five on you, do you understand? Knife throwing is good from a distance, and if you only have a few people you need to take out."

Hermione nodded her understanding. "How do you actually fight with knives, though?"

He regarded her, in a manner that made her feel as if she had asked a particularly stupid question. _Merlin, I must sound so ridiculous to him._ "First rule: if you only have one knife, keep it in your forward and primary hand. That is not what we will be starting with- although I hope to have you proficient in fighting with two knives as well as with only one knife by the end of the summer. Note that I said _proficient_ , Miss Granger, not perfect. This takes time and discipline to learn."

"Of course," she answered automatically.

Snape finished stretched and held out a hand. "Your knives. I'm going to be casting a charm that will effectively create a barrier to dull the knife. I will do this in the beginning, so no one loses anything important. However, as you become more adapt at fighting, I will stop applying the charm. The first thing you must expect in a fight with knives, Miss Granger, is to get cut. This isn't clean and simple- you must learn how to fight on after you have been cut, and we will be practicing scenarios where you have lost essential function in one or more of you limbs."

That made Hermione shiver a bit. "Alright." She accepted her knives, testing the blade gently. Like the professor had said, it was now dull.

"When you fight, do not forget that the knife is not your only weapon," he instructed. "You have legs, elbows, and feet. Use them to try and hit your opponent, to trip them up, to bring them down. Never follow blade with your eyes, especially if you are fighting a witch or wizard. Although knife fighting is not exactly common in the Wizarding World, those who do fight with knives know how to do it, and they also know how to cast a Mesmer over the blade. Blades are shiny, they glint, and are therefore a perfect subject for a Mesmer. You fall into a trance, and your enemy slits your throat."

He stood in front of her, and held up his knives. Hermione copied his position. "What do I watch, then?" she asked.

"Their body, specifically their chest and their shoulders," he told her. "Watch." Slowly he moved his knife in a slashing motion. "My movement is visible in my shoulders and my chest. But you must be careful if they are also fighting you with their legs. To a point, movement of the lower body is evident in the torso." He demonstrated a few different moves. "Now you are going to do form one. I will be your opponent."

The forms consisted of different motions- stepping and slashing, turning and blocking then stabbing. The later ones had kicking and punching as well, but the first was the most basic, fighting only one 'opponent.' Hermione began the motions of the first form, a blocking motion with her right hand.

Severus bore down on her, and she brushed away his knife by knocking his arm away with her forearm. She took a step forward, the next move, and brought her knife down in a diagonal slash. Severus had fluidly moved out of the way, and was now on her right. The next movement was another block, and after that another slash.

"During a real fight, you are not going to want to slash someone as much as stab them," Severus told her, moving away from another slash. "Slashing creates a cut, which makes them bleed. It is an inconvenience, a painful one, but they can fight through it. If you are fighting for someone's life, you want to go in for a kill. Stabbing hurts more, although it takes strength to pull the knife out of stab. When slashing, go for exposed areas."

They went through all the forms that morning, stopping to break at lunch. Hermione was sweating dreadfully, the wisps that had escaped from her braid sticking to her forehead in clumps. She was hot, tired, and frustrated. _I'm pretty bad at this,_ she thought dejectedly. _How am I supposed to learn knife fighting? The forms weren't that hard, but once you have someone you are actually trying to fight…_

Snape, on the other hand, still looked calm and collected. He sipped from a tall glass of water, watching something out the window. "Are you ready to resume, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, sir."

* * *

"How is Miss Granger doing at the Safe House? Are Nymphadora and Remus enough company for her?" Dumbledore asked, walking with Severus through the silent corridors of Hogwarts. The school had no sound but Dumbledore's voice to echo, both men moving almost soundlessly.

Severus sneered, his response to almost all of Dumbledore's questions. "As well as can be expected for a thirteen-year-old training to become a body guard for an imbecile." Dumbledore was quiet for far longer than Severus could stand. He gave in with a harsh exhalation, and elaborated as the Headmaster had clearly been expecting. "She can throw knives with adequate accuracy. I suspect the indefatigable erudite inside the bushy haired chipmunk has transferred adoration of books into a thirst for knowledge of a different sort. She is excelling in all her 'classes.' Mrs. Tonks has trained her to the point that she can lie to my face and I can barely detect it with Legilimency. If she so wished, she could join Draco for dinner at Malfoy Manor and fit in almost perfectly. The werewolf and the other esteemed Professors of this school have advanced her magical training by years. Shacklebolt tells me that she is becoming as wily as a politician but has yet to beat him using her bare hands. I suspect it's due to her size- the girl is tiny, but has yet to learn to use her height to her advantage. She was not as miserable at fighting as I expected. She is improving greatly, and practicing of her own will. The girl has moved on to fighting without prescripted movements, which was terribly difficult for her. She does not do well on her own imagination, although we are working to change that."

The two continued to sit in silence. "Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban, Severus," Albus Dumbledore said finally. "Harry Potter will be in great danger this year."

The curses of the Potions Master would have burned the ears off Sirius Black if the escaped (never convicted) convict had been in hearing range.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 3.
> 
> Chapter 4 will consist of most of third year - we are moving on quickly! See you next Monday. 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos! Love hearing from you all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday!
> 
> Thank you for all of the kudos! 
> 
> Here is Chapter 4 - third year begins!

**_Chapter 4_ **

When Severus Snape passed through the painting room into the sitting room of the Safe House, he scowled. It was his natural reaction to hearing the laughter of children, mostly because in his long tenure as Potions Professor, it meant something bad for either him or… him. Usually him.

"Miss Granger," he snapped. "Are you ready to depart?" The girls stopped laughing, the desired response. They were sprawled on the couch, Hermione with her legs thrown over Tonks'. The girls had become good friends over the course of the summer. It seemed that Muggle clothes had been the choice of the day for the two witches, fine under normal circumstances, but not for the situation they were heading into.

Hermione bounced up from the couch, nodding. "Yes, Professor Snape. I'm so excited-"

"No, you are not ready, Miss Granger," Snape drawled, leaning against the wall. "Because we are going to Diagon Alley, and you would stick out like Potter at a Ministry Ball. Go put on some proper robes before we leave the house." The girl blushed and scampered.

Tonks glared up at him from the couch. "Was that really necessary, Professor?"

"Do not try me, Nymphadora," he said, voice dripping with disinterest. "It is my business how I train Miss Granger into the most efficient machine possible, per Albus Dumbledore's orders." The Metamorphmagus quieted.

Hermione appeared a short while later, dressed in her school robes, robes that were an inch short on her. With the help of her friend, she lengthened them, frowning at the hem until it was decent. "Better, Professor?"

"If you want Potter to recognize you," he said again. _I am really getting too much pleasure out of tormenting her via her need to be perfection personified._ "I suggest you alter your appearance in some way, unless, of course, you want to have wasted the time of several busy and important people."

She flushed again, drawing her wand charming her hair straight and blonde, nose shorter, and face fleshier. "Now?"

"Acceptable, Miss Granger," Snape conceded, without telling her it was truly amazing to see a thirteen year old with enough magical control to cast complex identity shielding spells, and succeed. He would have to see how long they would hold for.

It was a swift trip through the illusion of the cottage, Hermione wincing when she experienced the discomfort of Apparition once more. They appeared not far from the Leaky Cauldron, where he stopped her.

"This is your test, so to speak. Harry Potter arrived here last night, after blowing up his aunt." He could see she was about to say something, _probably to lament Potter's stupidity,_ but shot her glare to quench the words in her throat. "So Minister Fudge left him here to wander around Diagon Alley, with Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban and allegedly ready to kill Potter."

Hermione couldn't hold back any more. "Harry blew up his aunt!" she half-whispered-half-screeched. "And the- the imbecile who currently heads our government left him here alone with a deranged murderer after him?" All of Kingsley's stories about Fudge had been less than complimentary.

Severus, uncharacteristically amused, nodded with what could have been a smile. "Are you surprised, Miss Granger?" He watched as she considered the question for a moment.

"No," Hermione said at last, deflating. "I suppose not. From what I've heard about him, Fudge is more than incompetent and corrupt. So what are we doing today?"

"You are going to prove yourself at last," Severus explained. "Harry is going to be wandering around Diagon Alley all day. I want you to follow him without him recognizing you, or figuring out he is being followed. I will be following both of you. If nothing interesting happens, I will make something interesting happen. Understood?"

Hermione nodded, and before she knew it, she was ordering a cup of coffee in the bar of the Leaky Cauldron and waiting for Harry to wake up.

* * *

"How did she do with the new challenges this week?" Albus, of course. He was watching Severus, plainly anticipating a negative answer. "From what her teachers have told me, she gets nervous in such situations far too quickly."

Severus leaned back in his own chair, smug with pride in his student. "She was excellent. She followed Potter discreetly, she found me three out of the four times I changed appearance, and she was able to point out to me another person who was following Potter." _That will give him a minor heart attack._

As expected, the Headmaster startled. "Someone else was following Harry?" Severus could practically hear the hum of his thoughts pressing out of the masterful brain of Albus Dumbledore.

"Nothing to be concerned about," Severus added, waving a hand casually, smirking at the annoyance Dumbledore was covering up. "Just a _fan_ who wanted an autograph. He was dissuaded."

* * *

"You will come to my office every Tuesday night for your Occlumency lesson, once the term begins again," Severus instructed Hermione, watching with eagle eyes as she prepared a rather complex Draught of Peaceful Slumber. "Three more clockwise stirs," he said with a sigh, picking up a sprig of chamomile, and tossing it in. "You added just a shade too much mugswort. The chamomile and the extra stirs will counter act it, and make it stronger, so you can store it longer."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, committing the fix to memory while she put a stasis charm over her potion and removed it from the heat. "But what about Harry?"

"There is no need for you to worry about that," Severus snapped. "Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall not only rearranged the entire schedule for you, but they also obtained a Time Turner from some contacts in the Department of Mysteries. You will have plenty of time on your hands. I suggest you use it wisely."

Hermione gaped at him, an expression he had been seeing less and less. "A _Time Turner?_ Those are incredibly hard to get-"

"Yes, they are," Snape interrupted. "But nonetheless, you will have one. We shall figure out a schedule for you before we get to school."

* * *

"Harry! Harry!" Ron called, waving Harry over to the table he and Hermione were sitting at. "Over here, Harry!"

The messy haired boy turned in surprise, but quickly recognized both the voice and the family of redheads that surrounded it. He was swarmed with Weasleys before he made his way to Hermione, stopping in his surprise.

Her hair was as curly as ever, if slightly less bushy. As Ron had remarked, she was brown- supposedly from lounging around beaches in France (as opposed to swimming laps in the pool outside the house- not in Iceland as it had turned out- and she had been outdoors plenty) and taller. Ron of course, towered over her, but she was perhaps an eighth of an inch taller than Harry.

She pulled him into a tight hug, a reassurance for her that he was still safe. She knew more details that Ron did for certain, and according to Professor Dumbledore Harry was in almost constant danger- Sirius Black was on the loose. He hugged her back, just as strongly. The two had grown closer after their dangerous journey for the Stone, and it had been the first time he had seen her all summer.

"Have you two gotten all your supplies yet? I need to get…"

* * *

"How has Miss Granger been using her Time Turner?" asked Dumbledore, forgoing even the futile offering of candy in favor of the question hurled at his Potions Master. "We had our monthly meeting in my office earlier and she… feels older than she should."

Severus sighed. He knew that the topic would come up sooner or later, and with the observational powers of the Headmaster he had banked on this discussion happening sooner rather than later. "We figured out a… schedule of sorts for her. The Time Turner can go back about twelve hours, comfortably. So, Miss Granger wakes up, goes through twelve hours of her day, going to all her normal classes that do not overlap, and making sure to avoid the ones that do. She eats, does homework, then 'goes to bed.' Instead of actually going to bed, she turns the clock back twelve hours, goes to a room Minerva has set up for her, and sleeps there. When she wakes about eight or nine hours later, she stays in the room and reads or does homework until twelve hours have passed. Then she leaves, turns back twelve hours, and goes to the overlapping classes. When that day of hers is done, she goes to bed in the dormitory." It was rather ingenious, and it has mostly been Hermione's idea. She had just needed help planning routes to and from her various classes without her selves bumping into each other. Severus had several suggestions- one did not live at Hogwarts for most of their life without leaning about most of the secret passages.

"So she is living two days for every one?" questioned Dumbledore. "She will be more than eight months older than she should be by the end of the year!" He considered this for a moment or two. "Do you think you can ensure she gets extra training over those three or four hours she waits to turn back?" _Always ready to figure out a way to turn things to his advantage._

Severus nodded slowly, then stood and walked over to the window. "Her childhood is over. Not that she had much of one to begin with."

"Why do you say that, Severus?" asked the Headmaster in surprise. "She is only a child- she is fourteen." Albus stayed in his seat, but turned to consider Severus with clear blue eyes. "Did you see something in her mind? Was she abused as a child?" As sad as it was, abuse was common in children from Muggle families.

"Not as much as she suspects Potter was," Severus snapped, remembering Hermione's memories of conversations with Harry, or of Harry shying away from raised voices or hands. "When were you planning to remove him from that home? Did you know his uncle and cousin beat him and his aunt sets dogs on him? Granger was just left to fend for herself- she became self-sufficient and lonely, and consequently knowledge-hungry and fiercely loyal to her friends. Potter is weak."

"No," Dumbledore said, rising. "Harry Potter is malleable, and loyal to those who show him love and family. His bond to the Light was strengthened when he stayed with the Weasleys last summer. He is starting to think of Molly and Arthur as substitute parents, so to speak. For the first time he can remember, he is being given affection- he has a reason to fight, so try and save the Wizarding world. We have such great potential and such great purpose in this boy, but we need to know exactly what he will do. The Granger girl is useful in protecting him- and your forays into her mind to teach her Occlumency will ensure that, for now at least, we know everything she knows."

* * *

As the Defense Against the Dark Arts class trickled into the staffroom, Hermione clenched her hands into fists. She had a sneaking suspicion that there was something slightly dangerous in the cabinet in the corner. Her guess was some kind of ghoul or ghast.

The room was paneled in dark wood, full of empty mismatched chairs. Well, all the chairs were empty save one- Severus' chair. He was seated in a dark armchair that looked as foreboding as it did comfortable. As the class filed into a semi-circle around the cabinet Lupin had indicated, Snape sneered and stood.

"Leave the door open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this," he drawled, striding to the door with his black robes billowing behind him. He paused at the door, making brief eye contact with Hermione before looking at Lupin once again. "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class has Neville Longbottom in it. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Unless, of course, Miss Granger is whispering in his ear." With a final sneer, he swept out of the room.

Hermione felt a strange shriveling sensation just under her ribs: it was a combination of anger, embarrassment, and- to her surprise- betrayal. _I forgot how mean he can be,_ she thought, frowning. _Poor Neville. I was only trying to help him this morning there was no need- but of course. He's the 'awful' teacher, he's the one who has to be scary. It's just that no one else sees how- well, not nice exactly, but not-so-awful he can be_.

Professor Lupin came to Neville's defense, in a move that made Hermione appreciate the man better. "Actually, I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation. I'm sure he will perform admirably." This was said calmly and kindly- Severus just sneered and left the room.

"Now then," Lupin said, grinning widely. The cabinet emitted a few banging sounds, causing Parvati to jump. "Nothing to worry about- there's a Boggart in there." Apparently, some members of the class did feel this was something to worry about. "Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," the professor explained. "Wardrobes, cabinets, cupboards… I even met one once that lodged itself in a godfather's clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if I might use it to give my third years some practice. But first, we must ask, what is a Boggart?"

Hermione let her hand shoot up- it was practically ingrained instinct by now. She and Professor Snape had spoken over the summer, deciding to construct a 'front' for others to see- in effect, they were trying to control the way the population at Hogwarts would perceive Hermione. No one would suspect a fourteen year old know-it-all to have three knives hidden at various places, or be capable of taking on her entire class in a duel and have a good chance of winning. "It's a shape-shifter," she said primly. "It'll take the shape of whatever it thinks would frighten us the most."

Lupin grinned at her. "I couldn't have put it better myself," he said, and she beamed at him. He continued to explain about the Boggart, but Hermione stopped focusing entirely on what he was saying. She knew what Boggarts were; however, Hermione did not know what her own Boggart was.

This could present a problem- what would the class say if they saw a dead Harry, or a dead Ron on the ground? Or the shadow face that was Lord Voldemort in the scared little corner of her mind, or a giant basilisk with bulbous yellow eyes that appeared in her nightmares every so often? She felt her heart pounding and clenched her hands into fists, letting her fingernails slice into the tender skin of her suddenly damp palms.

_What if it turns into a basilisk and petrifies me again? Harry doesn't have a sword around- oh god. Harry. What if his is a basilisk too? Or- or what if it's Lord Voldemort? He's actually seen the monster, he_ can't _go up against the Boggart._

It didn't matter- Lupin had already pushed a trembling Neville in front of the cabinet. "On the count of three, Neville," Lupin shouted, rolling up his sleeves and drawing his wand. "One… Two… Three… Now!"

To Hermione's horror, _Professor Snape_ emerged from the cabinet- but it wasn't him exactly. It was more of a subtle caricature- the nose was even longer and had a greater hook, the hair hung down in horribly greasy ropes, and the skin was yellower, more sallow than she had ever seen it on the real professor. The scowl the Boggart was wearing was quite horrific than Snape's worst.

Hermione didn't think it could get worse- and then she saw the man she admired (perhaps the most in the world) dressed in an emerald green dress with a stuffed vulture on his head. There was anger burning inside her, and shame. Anger, for seeing a man she respected treated in that way. Shame, for feeling vindictive after his comment about her and Neville. Hermione turned away- she didn't want to see this anymore.

She forgot about her own problems in the emotion that swept through her- _stupid fourteen year old hormones_ \- until the professor called Parvati forward and the Boggart turned into a mummy.

Lupin cycled through the rest of the class, and Hermione stuck to Harry's side like a burr. Ron had gone- and now the Boggart was stopping by Harry, who raised his wand.

However, to Hermione's relief, Lupin stepped forward, and the Boggart changed to a silvery orb- a full moon. He took care of it, ending the class by granting points. Hermione caught Harry's look of extreme disappointment- she felt it too. For as sure as she was that she did not want any of her classmates to see her Boggart, Hermione had a burning curiosity to see what was.

While the class was busy chattering away, Hermione found Harry's hand and squeezed it once. He looked at her, and she smiled sadly. "I wanted to see what mine was too," she whispered.

Harry gave her a matching grin. "I'm sure we'll see someday, right?"

* * *

Hermione's wards on the corridors leading to the Fat Lady tripped. She had been eating lightly in a room not far off from where the Gryffindor Common Room was, a breakfast of sorts. Her other self was in the Great Hall, greatly enjoying the Halloween Feast.

Until Sirius Black had attacked the Fat Lady. She was waiting for her wards to alarm her- she was prepared this time. Silently, she crept up to the growling voice, the high pitched soprano that was the Fat Lady refusing entrance, finally turning the corner to the sight of the enraged man slashing the painting.

"Stop!" she cried, running out of her hiding place. "What do you think you're doing?" Suddenly, the man- Sirius Black- stopped at stared at her, then at the painting.

"I- I'm sorry," Black said, panting. "Good God-" He stared at what he had done, then turned his gaze back to her- and the wand she had pointed at his face. "Who are you? I've seen you with Harry, before. You're the girl- the one who is always with him. What's your name?"

"You don't need to know," she said. "But you do need to know that I will not let you hurt him. Harry, I mean." She frowned at him- and let her wand drop an inch. "Why do you want to kill Harry?"

"I don't," said Sirius, sighing regretfully. "I'm sorry about this, too. Nothing personal."

* * *

Hermione woke up in the Hospital Wing, with an angry Snape and Madam Pomfrey nowhere to be found. Her head was pounding uneasily, and she had the sneaking suspicion that if she checked the back of her head, she would find a nasty bump. Crookshanks was by her bed, and when the half-Kneazle saw she was awake, he let out a disapproving yowl.

"I don't suppose you're here to inquire over my health?" she quipped, eyeing Snape cautiously. "When you're yelling, keep in mind that I have a rather painful headache, courtesy of Sirius Black."

She was pleased when she saw one corner of Snape's mouth flick up before he scowled at her again. "You are stupid, Miss Granger," he snapped, considerately keeping his voice to a manageable volume. "Confronting a mountain troll on your own is one thing, but an escaped convict hell bent on murdering Potter?" Crookshanks hissed at one of them, either to defend Hermione or to add his own reprimand to Snape's.

Tightening her fists in the sheets around her, Hermione flinched. "That was the thing, sir. He said he didn't want to kill Harry. And then he-" She paused. She really had no clue what had happened- she had her shield up and she had deflected the first stunner.

"He sent a Stunner, waited until you had a shield up, then used the wall to rebound Stun you," Severus said with a sigh. "Apparently, Miss Granger, you forgot that Sirius Black fought in the first war against the Dark Lord, and, as stupid as he was, he learned a few tricks. You will not do something that foolish again. It was only because I suspected you would do something like this with that Time Turner that I raced through the entire bloody castle to make sure no one found you. And now you need to sleep and I need to patrol. Take an extra day with the Time Turner if you need to."

He stalked off, leaving Hermione to down a Headache Relief Potion and go to sleep.

* * *

"Harry has been sneaking out to Hogsmeade," Hermione told Professor Snape, pacing furiously in her teacher's office. "The bloody idiot knows that Black is after him, and he still sneaks out of the castle. I've been at my wit's end trying to keep him safe. And there is a black dog following him."

"Well, unless Black can turn into a mutt, there is nothing to be concerned about there," Severus said silkily. "And control yourself, Miss Granger. What else have you noticed around the castle?"

With a huff, Hermione collapsed in her chair. "For one, Harry thinks you are trying to poison Remus for what Neville did to the Boggart earlier in the year."

"Nothing new there," remarked the dour man. "Despite saving him from multiple things in the past three years, he still suspects me to be a killer. And to add insult to injury, he says I'd kill the wolf with a poison!"

"Well, why wouldn't you?" asked Hermione, curiosity lighting her bright face. "Why is that an insult? You are a Potions Master after all." _Lovely,_ Severus though dourly. _Now she'll probably badger me for hours until I've satisfactorily explained._

Severus raised one eyebrow, as if expecting her to know the answer already. "Traditionally, poison is a woman's weapon. In the Wizarding World especially, poison is made, bought, and used primarily by women seeking to rid themselves of men, or cowardly politicians who are afraid to get their hands dirty. While I can and do brew poisons, I prefer to use them as a last resort. And even my poisons aren't the best- most old families pass down instructions along the maternal line, and as a result, most are untraceable. As a male, there are hundreds of poisons I will never know exist, let alone make."

She sat quietly for a while, digesting the information. "Will you teach me how to make poisons you do know? And antidotes? Both seem like useful skills to learn. You know- more subtle than a knife."

"You hardly have anyone that needs killing," replied the Potions Master dourly. "However, this summer, it may be possible for me to work in a few lessons on poisons. Andromeda Tonks, in particular, might have much to teach you in that area. Her mother's family was famous for their use of poisons to kill off wealthy husbands."

* * *

"Professor McGonagall! Professor McGonagall!" Hermione cried out, rushing up the stairs behind her Transfiguration Professor. "Professor McGonagall!"

"Stop that shouting, Miss Granger, and tell me what the problem is," the stern witch declared, halting and turning to respond to Hermione.

Hermione blushed faintly, then stood up straight. "Harry received a present from a mysterious person. A Firebolt- and I'm afraid Sirius Black was the one who sent it."

As she had suspected, McGonagall agreed with her, and decided to confiscate the broomstick as soon as she could get permission from Dumbledore.

Later in the evening, the Head of Gryffindor appeared in the Common Room, and promptly took the broom, despite the protests of Harry and Ron. It was after she left that the two boys turned on Hermione.

"I can't believe you, Hermione!"

"What the bloody hell?"

"Harry needs a broom if we want to have the faintest chance of beating the Slytherins!"

"I need a broom to play Quidditch!"

* * *

"So?" Severus snarked at her. "I have no idea why this upsets you so much. In my opinion, you are much better off without those deadweights. Although, come to think of it, the red haired sidekick is failing my class without your help. If only to make sure I don't need to teach him for more than five years, apologize so you can do his homework for him and get him to fourth year."

Hermione glared at him- she was gradually learning that as far as she was concerned, Severus Snape's bark was about a thousand times worse than his bite- at least where she was concerned. With someone genuinely dangerous, his bite would be deadly. "At least when Harry was talking to me I knew what he was up to. Now I need to Disillusion myself so I can follow him. And I don't do their homework for them. That would be cheating."

"Potter's papers are atrocious. Before they were merely dismal, now they make me want to rip my eyes out. But you can't spend all your time following the boy. What else are you working on?" _I hope, if only for my sanity, Miss Granger makes up with the Wonder Boy soon. If I have to go through another stumbling ink dot that Potter turns in, I will murder the boy before Black gets to him._

"Buckbeak," Hermione informed him. "I'm helping Hagrid prepare for his trial. Malfoy had no business disrespecting a hippogriff. If he had one iota of-"

"Don't complete that sentence, Miss Granger," Snape warned her. "Draco Malfoy happens to be my godson, and as foolish as he may be sometimes, I am rather fond of him."

Hermione looked torn, but conceded. "Fine. But I am still going to try to prevent them from killing Buckbeak. Everything Kingsley taught me about Magical Law is really coming in handy. In fact…"

* * *

That night, Hermione waited for him in the Common Room. She knew she was disobeying Snape's direct orders, but at this point, she no longer cared.

The portrait hole swung open, and the gaunt man stepped through, taking in the familiar surroundings of the Common Room until his gaze fell on Hermione. "Oh, not you again," he sighed. "Listen-"

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione incanted, petrifying Black where he stood. "No," she said, baring her teeth. "You listen."

She waved her wand, floating him over to the couch. "Now, I know what you are going to do tonight," Hermione said with a sigh, shooting the escapee a nasty look. "But, I have to let it happen anyway. I want you to know that if you harm a single hair on the heads of any boy in that dorm room, I capture you on your way out and give you to Professor Snape." She unfroze his head, allowing him to speak.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sirius said, frowning. He looked healthier than the last time she had seen him, but not by much. It was almost enough to make Hermione feel sorry for him. She stamped that out quickly. Sirius continued speaking. "But-"

"No buts," Hermione said firmly. "For some reason, you said you didn't want to kill Harry. Why? Everyone says that you escaped Azkaban to go after him and 'finish the job.' If you don't want Harry dead, what are you after?"

"Too long a story," Black said. "But don't worry- I don't want Harry dead. I'm his godfather for heaven's sake!"

"Give me an oath that you will not hurt any of the boys in that room," Hermione demanded. "Then I'll let you free. And you are not to talk about this with anyone."

He did so, and soon after he was slinking up the stairs to the Boy's Dormitory as Hermione was sending a message to McGonagall.

* * *

"She punched Draco Malfoy in the face?" asked Dumbledore incredulously. "Merlin, we really are creating a menace disguised as a teenaged girl." _Are you only just realizing this, Headmaster? I've been living with it since this summer and it has only just begun to disturb your sleep?_

"Menace?" hissed Snape, pacing the room, black eyes fiery with anger. "That ubiquitous pedantic _chit_ of a girl had the audacity to _punch_ Draco Malfoy!" _I've told her that the Malfoys are a powerful family. Now she has the hatred of a Pureblood lordling who will do his damn best to make sure she is on the top of the list when the Dark Lord returns to power._

"Well, this is a good thing, Severus," said the Headmaster, attempting to placate his Potions Master. "We now know that she isn't afraid to use her training. Even if it was at the wrong time and place. And it is beneficial that she has reconciled with Harry and Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, yes," drawled the furious man. "We should just forget about the bodily harm she did my godson, and concentrate on the quarrels of the Boy-Who-Lived and his devoted followers. Now he has made up with his portable personal brain! Just in time for the end of the year exams, lucky for him! And never mind he was never punished for leaving the school to go the Hogsmeade when we are putting up with the bloody useless Dementors to save his craven arse if Black decides to come back here!"

Dumbledore sighed, and reached into a pocket of his rather colorful robes for some candy. "Lemon drop, Severus?"

* * *

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, watching as the black dog she _knew_ had been following them for _months_ now dragged him under the frozen branches of the Whomping Willow. "Let him go!" She lunged for them, only to be pulled back by Harry as the branches started to thrash the air again.

"It's no use, Hermione," Harry said grimly, holding her back from going after the boy. "We need to follow them. Did you see how they- how they paused the tree?"

Hermione nodded absentmindedly, trying to remember what Remus had told her about the tree. "Yes- I think there is a knot at the base of the tree, you press it and the darn plant stops trying to decapitate you." With a flash of inspiration, she grabbed a long branch from the ground and used her wand to lengthen it until she could reach the tree's trunk. "There we go!" she crowed, jabbing the small button. "You go first, Harry, and I'll keep the tree frozen."

He nodded, and ran for the tunnel hidden among the thick and gnarled roots of the tree, making it under the tunnel just before Hermione had to release the stick. "Damn," she cursed, thankful for a moment that she wasn't wearing robes. She would have to duck and dodge for it.

In the end, she made it into the tunnel, sustaining a few scratches from the smaller branches, and painful bruise on her side from one she didn't see that might have broken or bruised a rib. She collapsed on the floor of the tunnel, glaring up at Harry, who was watching her astounded.

"Didn't occur to you to press the button three inches from your hand?" she wheezed. "Thanks, Harry." She was starting to see why Professor Snape thought Harry was a 'dunderhead' and 'not to be trusted with the simplest of tasks or instructions.'

He had the decency to blush from shame, helping her through the tunnel and up the stairs to the Shrieking Shack. Hermione did a quick medical spell Tonks had taught her, binding her ribs, and easing the pain- suddenly she could breathe and walk with much less physical discomfort. However, as they neared the shack, Hermione started to worry about the safety of Harry with a murderer, a werewolf, a secluded area, and a full moon.

"Let me go in front, Harry," she said, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I'm smaller- I want to see what they are doing."

What she saw was an empty room- a dark and decrepit room with smashed furniture littering the ground, long slashes pulling the wallpaper down, and claw-like rips in the couch cushions. It looked, quite literally, like a werewolf had stayed there for a while.

She crept into the room, noting the small whimpering noises above her head. They had to be upstairs, she decided. Hermione waved Harry forward, running quietly across the room to the stairs, treading lightly on the rotten old boards of the ancient staircase.

Ron was lying on the magnificent and dusty four-poster bed, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. His freckles were standing out horribly against the paleness of his face, and Hermione winced when he let out a low moan. "Oh, Ron," she whispered, putting one hand on his clammy face. "Are you alright?"

"No!" cried Ron. "It's a trap, the dog- Hermione, it is a trap!"

"The dog," gasped Hermione, realization dawning on her. "Harry we need to get out of here now, the dog must be an Animagus-" _I can't believe I didn't think of it before._

"Expelliarmus! Right you are, Missy," growled Sirius Black, stepping out of the shadows to catch their wands. His face looked the same way it did when Hermione had seen it in the Gryffindor Common Room, sallow skin stretched tight against his skull, making him look like a demented corpse. He then winked at her, clearly trying to great her like an old friend. "I thought you'd come for your friend," he said, then turned to Harry. "It was something your father might have done- he was brave like that."

"You killed my parents!" shouted Harry, rage trembling through his slight frame. He lunged at Sirius, but was stopped by Hermione and Ron, who grabbed at his shirt weakly before falling back on the bed.

Hermione stepped in front of Harry. "I've told you before, Black," she said calmly. "If you want to kill Harry, you will need to get through me first."

"Me too," added Ron, standing up and swaying queasily. "You'll have to get through me and Hermione before you get to him."

"Lie down," said Black quietly. "You'll damage that leg even more." There was something like regret in his dark eyes, something Hermione recognized.

"Didn't you hear me?" cried Ron. "You'll have to kill all three of us!" But he collapsed on the bed anyway, even more color draining from his face.

Black shook his head, the sympathy disappearing to be replaced with murderous delight. "There will be only one murder tonight," he said, grinning dementedly.

Before she could process what was happening, Harry had broken free of Ron's grasp on his arms and barreled into Sirius, apparently attempting the beat the living hell out of him. Ron was yelling, and she screamed out of pure frustration. She ran forward, desperately struggling to figure out what she was supposed to do. Hermione kicked out at Sirius' head, then stomped on the hand that was holding all the wands, ducking down to grab them.

And then Black released Harry, and punched her in the face, eyes wild. "I've waited too long for this," he rasped, holding her throat and starting to squeeze. Hermione choked, but managed to throw three wands to Harry, keeping her own. She jabbed him in the stomach, then tried to clock him over the head as her vision started to get spotty.

"We're up here!" Ron cried suddenly, and Hermione could make out muffled stomping sounds from the lower floors. Sirius was distracted as well, creating the perfect opportunity for Hermione to break free, gasping and rubbing her throat.

Remus Lupin barged up the stairs, a fanatic gleam in his eye. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, collecting all the wands flew toward him. He looked around, seeing Sirius panting against the wall, Ron lying on the bed, Harry helping Hermione up, and Hermione's bruised face and neck.

"What the hell is happening here?" he asked. "Sirius, where is he?" The Professor was a sight, dressed simply in trousers and an old button down, tawny eyes flashing.

In contrast, Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he did not move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered.

"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "... why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless" - Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, "- unless he was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?"

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded. Then the Professor embraced Black like a brother, as the three teenagers stared in amazement.

"What the hell!" exploded Hermione. "I've been covering up for you this entire time and you've been the one helping him- Remus, how could you do this to yourself? It's a full moon, do you want Harry dead, too? All of us, on your conscience?" At Harry and Ron's confused looks, Hermione sighed, and elaborated. "Lupin is a werewolf. Didn't you see what his Boggart was? A full moon? And the essay Snape assigned us about werewolves? And _tonight is a full moon._ " Hermione had to wonder if they had grasped the severity of the situation yet.

Both of the former Marauders sobered, their gaze going up to the wooden roof of the hut. "It is a full moon tonight," Remus agreed softly. "We need to explain and get out of here. And Hermione, has anyone ever told you that you are the brightest witch of your age?"

And explain they did- Sirius explained exactly what had happened on the night the Potters were betrayed, and why he returned to hunt down the rat- Peter Pettigrew in disguise. The story of the Marauders was told- interrupted only by the opening of a door seemingly by itself.

Hermione noticed, and even though she was paying attention to the story with most of her mind, she followed the path of the pair of shoes that occasionally appeared. She recognized that particular pair of shoes- they belonged to one Professor Severus Snape.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "We were in the same year, you know, and we - er - didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field... anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be - er - amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it - if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf - but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life... Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was..."

"That's awful," whispered Hermione. "Sirius Black, you say you didn't murder all those people, and yet you were plotting to kill a classmate when you were only a child?" _Oh god. Oh god. Professor Snape- oh my god. That's why he hates Harry, that's why he hates Lupin. He hates them because Lupin tried to kill him while they were in school- oh god. So much makes sense now. A Quidditch star like James Potter- Chaser, I think- with the power of several 'best friends' behind him… and then the fact that they would have the gall to play a 'prank' like that- they probably bullied him horribly._ Hermione felt sick.

Sirius Black frowned at her, then his eyes darted back to Scabbers, who was cowering in Ron's hands. "I never meant for it to get out of hand. Severus Snape was a budding Death Eater who was too curious for his own good."

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly. "You tried to kill him when you were kids?"

"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin. Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing, directly at Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter Four. 
> 
> Please take the time to leave a comment! There were none on the last chapter - AO3 is very different from FFN in that way. I love to hear what you all think!
> 
> Also - change in posting schedule! Instead of Mondays, I'll post on Saturdays. See you all on the 21st! I'm flying to France to visit family for the holidays, so I will update as soon as I have proper internet. See you soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> A little early - I'm boarding a plane to France in a few minutes, and want to make sure you get the chapter as promised!

_**Chapter 5** _

Hermione didn't know how the night had gone from bad, to worse, to deadly so quickly. Bad was confronting Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack. Worse was having Peter Pettigrew begging for his life at her feet. And deadly was facing a werewolf chained to Pettigrew and Ron, while Professor Snape was moaning quietly on the ground and Harry was standing stock still.

She had to act fast- she shot a reviving spell at Snape, released Ron from his bonds, and was pushing Harry and Ron in front of her. "Run!" she shouted, pulling Snape off the ground and pushing him away too. "Run, go, run!"

Lupin was still transforming, a horrible sight complete with broken screams turning into wolf-like howls. Pettigrew turned to face her, then grinned nastily and shrunk, turning into a rat and scampering into the Forbidden Forest. Hermione wanted to scream her frustration. Sirius had made his transformation, but looked unsure whether to go after Peter or Remus. He chose the werewolf.

"I'm sorry Professor," she whispered, then sent a few spells at the still transforming werewolf before running after her friends and Professor Snape.

The warmth of the spring day had faded, creating a cold and utterly terrifying environment. Every breath was raggedly pulled into Hermione's lungs as she pumped her legs as hard as she could. She tried pushing away the fact that there was a _werewolf_ somewhere behind her. The terror was draining- but she felt safer when caught up with Harry and Ron and Snape.

They made it to the lake before the werewolf caught up with them. Harry was trying to help Ron, and Snape was still dazed, stumbling over the uneven ground. It could not get any worse- until it did and _Dementors_ were coming at them from their other side- the one that was not the one the werewolf was coming at them from.

"Harry- a Patronus. Do a Patronus," she croaked, throwing herself between him Ron and the werewolf. "Professor-"

"Get back, girl," he snapped at her, pushing her behind him. "If someone needs to die tonight it will not be you. And the dog seems like it is going to help as well." It was true- Sirius was back and trying to push Remus away.

But even as the werewolf turned and ran for the Forbidden Forest, Sirius changed back, gasping as the Dementors came closer and closer, Harry's wisps of pale smoke doing nothing to scare them off. Hermione pulled out her own wand, trying to think of a happy memory, any memory before…

* * *

"Miss Granger, I think three turns will suffice," Dumbledore said gravely, the face of a man who had just told them Sirius would die and there was no way to overturn his sentence in time. "It is five minutes to midnight, and I am locking the doors now. Good luck."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Professor. We will be back. No one will see us. You said thirteenth window from the right?"

The Headmaster nodded. "And remember that Sirius was not the only one to be unfairly sentenced to death today." He left the Hospital Wing. _Brilliant,_ Hermione thought. _Sirius has an escape route now. But that gives us the added complication of rescuing Buckbeak- without being seen. Brilliant._

In one smooth movement, Hermione pulled the chain from around her neck. "Come here, Harry," she commanded, draping the chain around both their necks when he obeyed. "We are going to take a little trip back in time."

And so they did- following their past selves, waiting until no one was watching Buckbeak to steal the condemned hippogriff, and flying the beast up to the window in Professor Flitwick's office. And in between that, saving the lives of their past selves from the Dementors hell bent on sucking their souls from their bodies.

But the flying part- Harry was enjoying the flying part. He was in his element.

"It's brilliant, Hermione!" he crowed, gripping Buckbeak's feathered neck tightly. "Not as smooth a ride as a broom, of course, but can't you feel his power?"

At this point, Hermione was feeling almost unbearably queasy. "Unfortunately," she groaned. "Let's get this runway to the escaped prisoner and get off it!"

At least Sirius was grateful. When they swooped past the thirteenth window to the right, he was there, just as Dumbledore had said. The expression on his face was desolate, desperate, the face of an innocent man condemned to death.

"Thank the gods," he breathed as the hippogriff landed on the windowsill, heavy wings beating fast to hold it in place as Hermione unlocked the window, allowing him to crawl through and get on the beast behind her.

Then Harry was guiding Buckbeak into a dive, heading toward the Forbidden Forest. "I'm going to die," Hermione moaned, clutching Harry's shirt desperately. "I'm only fourteen years old and I'm going to die."

The man behind her shifted slightly, leaning close to whisper in her ear. Normally, Hermione would have recoiled from the rancid breath- but this time she understood that Sirius as an escaped prisoner and could be excused for poor dental hygiene. "Thank you, Hermione. For before and now. You're bloody brilliant, you are."

"You're welcome," Hermione said, just as quietly, but she had a feeling Sirius heard. He leaned back again, and they landed with a hard thump on the rough ground. "We need to get back," Hermione announced. "Dumbledore is locking us in in about… fifteen minutes."

"Alright," Harry said, "Goodbye, Sirius."

"You truly are your father's son, Harry," said Sirius, scooting up on the hippogriff's back. "I'll see you again. Thank you, Hermione. The best of luck to both of you." With a few mighty beats of his wings, Buckbeak rose into the air. Hermione and Harry were already running back to the castle, looking back over their shoulders to check the progress of the rapidly disappearing black dot that was Sirius and Buckbeak.

They barely made it to the Hospital Wing- Dumbledore was pulling out the key to the door right as Harry and Hermione rounded the corner.

"Did you succeed?" he asked, both of them really, but his eyes were focused on Hermione. "Did you-"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly. "We succeeded. Both of them are safe for now- and no one saw us. We saved our past selves as well. We couldn't get Pettigrew, though."

"Hermione was brilliant!" gasped Harry, grossly out of breath from the sheer amount of running he and Hermione had to do to get back in time. "Sirius and Remus both said so- and we really couldn't get Peter so it wasn't her fault." Compared to him, Hermione was more cool and collected, just a slight sheen of sweat on her brow.

"I would not doubt Miss Granger's intellectual prowess," said Dumbledore cordially. "Indeed, I would wish that both you and Mr. Weasley would follow her fine example in regards to class work. Can I count on better marks next year, Mr. Potter?"

"Of course, sir," Harry said, a curious shade of red blossoming on his already flushed cheeks. Dumbledore chuckled, and held the door open for the two of them. Ron was sleeping peacefully in one bed, and Hermione and Harry made their way over to the other two rumpled ones.

"Goodnight," Harry said quietly.

Hermione sighed, overwhelmed for a moment by the sheer safety of the bed. Under the covers, in bed clothes, no one could get to her. No one was trying to kill anyone. She was _safe._ "Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

"Well?" demanded Severus. "Did Miss Granger prove herself to you?" _Did I train her right? Did she succeed in your eyes?_

Professor Dumbledore was silent for a few moments, seeming much older than his considerable years. "She has proved to me she has a willingness to keep Harry safe. And you were right, she is intelligent. I was expecting her to freeze at some point- recall that all her teachers said she had trouble merging her book intellect and her fighting skills- but she did admirably well. I looked in your mind, and in hers. There was no doubt when she threw herself between him and poor Remus."

"Poor Remus," Severus scoffed, hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he examined the night sky outside the Headmaster's office. "Poor Remus nearly took a chunk out of your boy savior and your precious spy."

"Poor Remus," responded the Headmaster coolly, "has no control over his situation, as he did have 'a chunk' taken out of him when he was four." Severus had no reply but a sneer for that.

After another moment of silence, the Potions Master returned to the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. "She was sharp. She saved my life, and Harry's life. And of course that bloody fool Sirius Black-"

"Sirius Black was innocent, Severus," Dumbledore intoned, folding his hands inside his sleeves. "We were supremely luck that the Dementors did not get to him."

"Lucky?" questioned Severus. "We were pretty damn lucky that Hermione Granger knew how to use a Time Turner and that Lupin can work miracles with a Boggart."

* * *

"Enter," snapped Severus, pushing aside a stack of papers to be graded. Whomever it was, they were disturbing him.

To his surprise, it was Hermione Granger's face peeking around the door to his office. "Is this a bad time, sir?"

"No, come in," he sighed. "Do you have something to report, Miss Granger?" She nodded, but a slight shimmer followed her head.

"Yes, Professor. I-" she faltered at the look on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"Do you have a Glamour on your face, Miss Granger?" he asked, voice dangerously soft.

She looked at him like a pitiful puppy, hanging her head. "Yes, sir."

"And what did I tell you when Moody and Tonks taught you Glamours?" he asked, knowing the answer already. His eyes were daggers, boring into hers.

Hermione's back straightened, and she glared right back at him, defenses around her mind strong. He could not break them without hurting her, so for the moment he withdrew. "You said that they were only to be used if needed. I was not to use them to hide spots or make myself look prettier."

"So remove the Glamour, and let me see what you are hiding, Miss Granger," Snape purred, a viciously smooth demand that he was sure would be followed by a severe reprimand and a cowering girl.

Instead, when she removed the Glamour, it was his infamous self-control that prevented him from doing something that he would regret. Hermione's cheeks and brow were decorated with scratches, courtesy of the Whomping Willow. Her lip was swollen and scabbed over, she had a bruise on one cheekbone, and her neck was clearly imprinted with hand shaped bruises.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, voice trembling with barely concealed rage. _Who hurt her? They would have injuries as well, Moody and Kingsley saw to that- are those hand marks on her neck? Who tried to strangle her?_

Hermione lowered her head, presumably in shame. "Training with Moody, I guess. And the Whomping Willow. And well- Sirius, a bit, but-"

"Sirius as in Sirius Black?" questioned Snape. When she nodded, cursed lightly under his breath. "Tell me what happened, Miss Granger."

"Nothing too bad," Hermione stammered, raising one hand to her neck. "Harry attacked Sirius, so I got in between them- I didn't want Harry to get hurt, after all. I got our wands free, and he aimed a punch at Harry which I took. On my face," she added, quite needlessly, while gesturing toward her cheekbone. "And then he said something and started to try and strangle me. He wasn't really thinking straight at that point-"

"Do _not_ make excuses for the sorry excuse for a man who tried to strangle you, Miss Granger," Severus snapped. "Even you should realize that Sirius Black was trying to kill you. He was worse than I had thought him- attacking a child."

"I'm not a child," Hermione snapped. "I'm fifteen. Almost sixteen by my reckoning." And she looked it, in that moment. Over the year, her hair had gradually de-frizzed to the point where it was merely riotous rather than bushy, and she had gained muscle, and slimmed down from training. She still wore her hair in a relatively childish fashion, to better fit in with her classmates. Severus also noticed that the Glamour she had been wearing had added a certain roundness to her features, and shaved fractions of inches from her height.

Severus inclined his head, then rose abruptly. "Indeed, Miss Granger. Come here." 'Here' was the other side of his office, or more specifically, the antique cabinet that held most of his relatively harmless completed potions. From the cabinet he withdrew Bruise Salve, and Close Cut. "Apply these liberally," he instructed, putting both small jars in her hands. "You should also use them after practice with Moody. He is liable to forget you are breakable."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, accepting the gift. "And the Glamour…"

He frowned at her. "Use it, of course. It is useful. And I will have to talk to Dumbledore- you might not be able to use the Time Turner this summer like we were planning. You can't look that much older than your classmates." He went back to his work. "Was there anything else?"

"No," Hermione answered. _Should I tell him about my Boggart? No. He'll just report it to Dumbledore. No need for them to reassure themselves that I'm dedicated to Harry._ Her Boggart would add a new image to her nightmares- Harry's dead body, Ron's dead body… No. There was no need.

* * *

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, sitting down in the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk and adjusting her skirt.

The Headmaster offered her a lemon drop, and sighed when she declined. "You are much like Severus, my dear."

"You only complement me by saying so," Hermione replied smoothly. "Is there something you needed to tell me?" _The only reason you call me up to this room, Headmaster Dumbledore, is to inform me of something you have decided for my life._

Dumbledore nodded, not surprised by her observation. He knew it as well as she did- he used people. He accepted that. It was necessary. "Yes. Severus and I spoke, and it was decided that you will use the Time Turner this summer, but you are not to use the it any more than what is necessary this summer. You will spend most of the vacation at Safe House Three, and the rest of the summer at the Weasleys." _It was decided, but I think by you and not by Severus._

"Leaving no time for my family, correct?" questioned Hermione, internally shaking her head at the Headmaster's reaction. "I thought so."

Dumbledore adopted his 'grandfatherly' face, frowning slightly at Hermione. "It is, of course, your choice, Miss Granger. If you choose to put your familial relationships before further training and the future of the Wizarding world, then that is, of course, your choice." _Like that isn't an obvious guilt trip, old man._

"With choices like that, how could I refuse?" answered Hermione sarcastically. "No, I'll spend it the way you dictated. Safe House Three, Weasleys." _Oh, joy._

* * *

"So, how did Sirius escape?" asked Ron, as the three close friends wandered the grounds by the lake. "I mean, you've hinted you had something to do with it. But what actually happened?"

Hermione shrugged, using the motion to examine their surroundings. She cast a _Muffliato,_ a handy spell Snape had taught her. One could never be too careful. Harry, however, spoke freely, paying no attention to the people who may or may not have been listening.

"Well, Hermione and I got Buckbeak, flew him up to the tower Sirius was in, and let Sirius fly off with Buckbeak. And I did the Patronus that drove away the Dementors by the lake," Harry explained, as if he was trying to make his answer as deliberately unclear as possible.

Ron had a look of total confusion on his face. "How? It's impossible to be in two places at once. I've been telling Hermione that all year, haven't you been listening, mate?" Harry glanced at Hermione guiltily, and she sighed. _I really do wonder why I spend so much time with them, really._

"I have a Time Turner, Ron," she said finally, tired and slightly annoyed by Harry's glances. "I can be in two places at once. I have been doing it all year to get to all my classes. I figured Sirius was worth a trip through time to save, I guess."

Mouth opening and closing repeatedly, Ron resembled a certain species of fish. In short, he was speechless. Eventually, he was able to gasp out a "Bloody hell, Hermione."

"It shouldn't have been that hard to figure out, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "Even for you." Immediately after she said it, she felt bad. "Sorry. That was mean."

"Yeah," Ron said. "It was." His expression softened, though, and he slung an arm over her shoulders. "Not everyone can be as smart as you are, Hermione."

Harry joined, them, adding another arm as weight on her shoulders. "Yep. Which is why you have to help me next year, to meet Dumbledore's standards."

"And make sure Snape doesn't kill us," Ron added. "He probably ripped up every single one of my essays that you didn't check over." _Probably,_ Hermione agreed mentally. _This is why I love them. They act like children, but they are so innocent. So sweet when they want to be. Boys. I hope they aren't all like this or I will never get married._

* * *

"Hermione!" Tonks shouted, running and tripping across the foyer of Safe House Three. "Great to see ya, love!" The Metamorphmagus elongated her eyelashes ridiculously, batting them at Hermione.

"Great to see you too, Tonks," Hermione giggled, hugging the older woman. "How've you been?" It was strangely comforting to be back at the familiarity of the Safe House. The fire was crackling merrily and she could hear one of the house elves working in the kitchen.

Tonks shrugged, changing her hair color automatically. "Fine, fine. Everything's been more hectic at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement since Black escaped, but other than that most of the rest is the same." Tonks considered Hermione critically for a moment, scrunching up her nose before lengthening it to wrench a laugh out of the girl. "Merlin, you've grown."

"Tell me about it," Hermione muttered, letting her hair out of the bun it was fighting. "I'm nearly sixteen now, by the way," she informed Tonks. "Time Turner and all." Dumbledore had let her know that Tonks and Remus had been kept op to date concerning the rather unique situation that was Hermione plus a Time Turner.

Tonks shook her head slowly. "Nice. You certainly filled out, Hermione." She waggled her eyebrows playfully, and Hermione giggled. "Want to meet our new house guest?" It amazed Hermione sometimes, the way Tonks could bounce from subject to subject.

"Sure," Hermione said, laughing. "Just let me put my bags down. Professor Snape didn't come with me all the way here; he dropped me off at the cottage illusion muttering something about not wanting to smell like dog when he left the- how did he put it?- kennel of a Safe House?" Hermione paused for a moment, then giggled again. "I forgot- I can do magic out of school." With a complicated swish, she sent the bags up to her room.

"The house elves can do that, you know," said Tonks, holding up her hands to quiet Hermione. "I know, I know. You don't like making them do things you can do yourself. But still. And I know Snape doesn't like Remus because of his furry little problem, but what does he have against-"

"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected automatically, prompting Tonks to make a face as she opened the door to the kitchen. "And who is our new guest?"

"Sirius Black," Tonks said with relish. "You know, the escaped convict?" The 'escaped convict' himself was sprawled at the counter top with Remus.

"Oi!" Sirius shouted. "I was never given a trial. Make that escaped, never-convicted convict!" Tonks started laughing, and then Sirius noticed the person next to the Metamorphmagus. "Oh, not you again!"

"What's wrong with me?" asked an indignant Hermione, placing her hands on her hips. "You're the one who breaks into Hogwarts to terrorize students with a knife!"

Sirius grinned sheepishly at the glances from the other two people in the room. "Good point," he conceded. "But still. You beat me two out of the three times you've met me before."

"You let this little girl beat you?" asked Tonks, grinning wickedly. "Cousin, I will never let you live this down."

* * *

"I surrender," gasped Moody, glowering up at the point of her wand. "Let me up, there's a good girl."

Hermione gave him her hand, pulling him back up and holding on until he balanced on his wooden leg. "I can't believe I finally-" She was unable to finish the sentence as a result of being flat on her back, Stunned.

"Never help yer enemy," Moody growled. "There's a lesson for you, lass."

* * *

"Prepare yourself, Miss Granger," Snape said silkily, turning his wand over in his hands. The girl in front of him drew in a deep breath and cleared her mind, animated face smoothing into calm. Her eyes opened, serene. "Legilimens," he hissed.

His eyes bored down on hers, a deep rich brown circled by a ring a shade darker, with flecks of gold or green near the iris. His eyes were so grey they appeared black, the iris almost invisible depending on the lighting. Down, deeper and deeper into those warm brown eyes…

And then something gave way and he was inside her head and seeing snippets of thought and memory. He saw her reading in a neat bedroom, eating with her parents, walking the streets of her hometown. But there was a- a flavor to the memories, a something he could barely detect. And so he reached deeper, searching for something.

He hit a slick glass wall, something he would have never found had he not been searching for it. He ran mental hands around it, but they slid right off. Examining the surface for cracks was useless, as was trying to go over or under it. In the end, he had to use brute force.

"Ow," Hermione grumbled, rubbing her temples. "Did you have to go so hard? I'm going to have a headache for the rest of the day."

Smirking, Severus sent his wand back to its holster. "Your defenses need strengthening, as do your doctored surface memories. But, good work, Miss Granger. Here-" he nudged a small bottle of a pale potion at her. "This will alleviate your headache. Tomorrow we start on Legilimency."

Hermione grinned excitedly.

* * *

"This is no fair," exclaimed Hermione, crossing her arms over her chest. "Honestly. Six against one?" _I can get Sirius and Tonks quickly I think- Tripping jinx for her, definitely. Kingsley, if I can get behind him. Remus and Sirius work well together, so split them up. But damn- Moody and Severus at the same bloody time! They're going to wipe the floor with me._

Tonks nodded gleefully, Moody gave her a gruesome grin, Kingsley folded his arms and leaned against the wall lazily, and Sirius let out a short bark of laughter. "Right-o, kiddo. Remus was saying how we need to challenge you more. Six against one sounds about right."

"Fine," Hermione sighed. "See what you'll be saying after I kick your arse." _Gods above help me._

* * *

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered, one hand already reaching into his pocket to tuck away the candy. "I thought not. Any news from Tom's old friends?"

Severus turned to face the window, his usual position. "The Mark grows darker day by day. Rumors abound. Pettigrew had disappeared into the wilds of Albania, Lucius whispers in the Minister's ear, and Azkaban howls with anger. Others have spread out in the Wizarding World, but all of us agree. It darkens." The mere thought of the mark made Severus' arm twitch imperceptibly.

Dumbledore's voice was old and tired when he spoke. "What does that mean, Severus? Is Voldemort rising once more?" Severus frowned- when _that_ name was spoken, his left arm ached for a sudden, gut-clenching moment.

"I don't know, Headmaster," he said finally. "When Potter vanquished him the first time, the Mark faded to a shadow. But now… Now, I fear for Potter's life. Something is in the works this year, and it will not be good for our side. The Dark Lord has been patient, but now he has a servant who will seek him desperately." _This might be the year. We have had thirteen years of peace. A reprieve. Will he believe me? Will it go back to the way it was- revels and death and torture?_

"How goes Miss Granger's training? Will she be able to protect the boy?" asked Dumbledore urgently. The flames in the fireplace flickered in the round office, casting the face of his spy into shadow.

Severus nodded, head barely moving. "After months of training, she can hold her own in a knife fight. I'm beginning to introduce dueling and fighting at the same time. As for normal magical dueling, she beat us, finally. Six against one- although it was a kind of stroke of luck because the damn Metamorphmagus tripped and fell over me. And the time she spends with the mutts reinforces her affection for Potter. They tell her stories about how he was as an infant. Apparently," Severus sneered, "Potter enjoyed hunting the family cat. And he set fires with accidental magic." _Two of the three signs of a psychopath. I wonder if Potter wet the bed as a child? I wonder how much stock Dumbledore would place in 'the power of love' if Potter turned out to be a deranged serial killer?_

"Good, good," Dumbledore said with a sigh, leaning back in his throne-chair. "I will see her at the beginning of the school year. I need to test her defenses. And I think she should make use of the Time Turner again. She can use the extra time to track Harry when she can't be seen. And to train. No one has to know if she has the Time Turner. You did say she was proficient at Glamours?"

The memory of Hermione's bruised face and neck made him scowl. "She is. When will she go to the Weasleys? If my memory serves me, Potter is to arrive in a week."

Dumbledore considered for a moment. "Have her arrive a day or two before him. And tell her to use the Time Turner so she may continue having lessons while she is at the Burrow."

* * *

Hermione flew at the scrap of a boy, squeezing him tightly. Gods, he was thin- Harry definitely needed to eat more and his family seemed determined to slowly starve him to death. He felt so frail in her arms, like a baby bird. But he hugged her back, grinning.

"Have you ever heard of Ton-Tongue Toffees, Hermione?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "Best invention ever."

"I'm glad you think so," Hermione said wryly. "Are you excited about the World Cup?" His eyes lit up, and before she knew it, he was going on and on about the two teams. She just smiled, and allowed herself to be pulled along up the stairs to Ron's room.

She noticed Ginny in the corner, looking up at Harry wistfully. She had been ignored by Harry; the boy had walked in and grabbed her, then Ron. _Poor Ginny,_ Hermione thought, heart aching a bit for the girl. _But she'll have her day soon enough. She has great bone structure and with the Weasley hair and temperament, by the time she's fifteen she'll be able to have any boy she wants._

* * *

"Follow me, Harry," Hermione ordered, grabbing his hand and running. Ron was somewhere on Harry's other side, and she gave a frantic prayer that he wouldn't get hurt. People were running everywhere, panicking and milling around in a riot.

She turned for a moment, to check their backs. Someone was bearing down on them- Malfoy. "They're going to get you, Granger!" he yelled, a flush of pink on his pale cheeks. "Mudbloods come after Muggles, and there are only five Muggles here! When they are done with those, the will come for you!"

"Then tell them they'll regret it!" Hermione shouted back. "If Mommy and Daddy are in those masks, better warn them to steer clear of me!" Her blood was racing hot and cold with the thrill of the chase- except she was the one being chased. _If they catch up with me, they'll be sorry! I am not to be messed with!_

Hermione pulled Harry away, Ron following her lead. They were almost at the forest when Hermione felt the tingle on the back of her neck. She knew that feeling- there was a spell coming their way. She cast a shield quickly, not looking back as they ran into the forest.

The night was dark and humid, with the usual accompaniment of insects and wild life. The trees- they had seemed so friendly the day before- swayed menacingly in the dark, the whisper of their leaves haunting against the distant roar of the crowd.

They were safe for the moment- there were other teens shuffling around in their nightclothes and giving each other nervous looks. A few more were trickling into the clearing- two in particular were alone and desperate, chattering in French.

"Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue..." said one of the girls, wide blue eyes frantic.

Hermione felt a sudden sympathy for her, searching her mind for the remnants of her French lessons. "Vous êtes de Beauxbâtons? Beauxbâtons, l'académie de magie?"

"Oui!" exclaimed the girl, a spark of hope blossoming on her pretty face as she motioned to her friend. "Charlotte! Madame Maxine, elle est une très grande femme..."

"Allez à gauche!" Hermione instructed, pointing the way. "Il y a une grande femme française avec les jeunes filles." The two girls thanked her, and left quickly, nightgowns making them seem like little silver fairies in the darkness.

That made Hermione realize that both Harry and Ron were staring at her, and she herself was in her pajamas. "What?" she asked defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. At least she wasn't wearing a nightgown- tank top and shorts for her, thank you very much. But her arms were getting cold.

"Blimey, Hermione," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "I didn't know you spoke French."

"Well, I do," snapped Hermione. "Vacations in the south of France, remember? And where are your wands? We should go look for Fred and George. We need the light. It looks like they took off to the right when we were separated."

"Yeah, right," Harry said, feeling around his pants, then his jumper. "Wait- I can't find my wand." _How hard is it for you to hold on to a bloody stick!_ screamed Hermione in her head. _I can see what Professor Snape means when he calls you a dunderhead._

"Then if anyone comes, stay behind me, Harry," said Hermione with a sigh. "And if something happens to me, take my wand." _You've been in worse situations,_ Hermione reminded herself. _Two trolls, a basilisk, and a werewolf, remember?_

The wandered deeper into the wood, flinching occasionally when they heard shrieks of fear and bangs from spells. They passed the veela and their admirers, and an escaping Winky. The sight of the poor house elf made Hermione's heart cry out- she hated seeing slavery. At least Dobby was paid, and Minny was accepting a ball of yarn a week. They were happy- and Hermione made sure that they had no problems doing what she asked of them. Winky was miserable.

"We should stop here," Hermione decided after a while, examining the small clearing with the wandlight. "I can't hear screaming anymore, and if we go any further in my tethering spell will get stretched a bit too far for my liking."

"Tethering spell?" asked Ron, blinking slowly. "Sorry, Hermione. Not awake yet. I was having a pretty neat dream about Quidditch though…" Harry nodded as if in agreement.

Hermione just shrugged. "Simple enough, really. I attached a magically tether to the campsite so we could find our way back if we got lost. I don't trust my navigation skills in the dark."

"'Simple enough, really?'" mocked Ron, not unkindly. "Honestly, Hermione. You're bloody brilliant." He had no reservations about showing his awe. Hermione grinned shyly. This was why she loved them. Her boys- She had known them for about five years now. Wonder how the time had flown by.

And then a gravelly voice croaked, "Morsmordre," and a green cloud erupted from behind them, illuminating the sky above with a skull and snake. In the distance, Hermione heard screams of terror, high panicked shouting and the sounds of a human stampede out of the forest.

She had seen this sign in her books. "Dark magic," she breathed, moaning slightly. "Bad, bad magic. Harry, run!" They turned on their heels, attempting to flee the wood. Popping sounds surrounded them, heralding the arrival of twenty or so Ministry wizards. "Duck!" she screamed instead, pulling the two boys down with her.

Ron's feet tangled with Harry's, and because she had linked her arms through Harry's arm, the three of them came tumbling down.

Above their heads, spells clashed with each other, bouncing off, repelling, and hitting trees. Bark flew in several directions, occasionally harming another caster. _Better than our heads,_ Hermione decided. A tree burst into flame in front of her. _Much better._

"Stop! Stop!" it was Arthur Weasley. "It's my son! It's my son and Harry Potter!" _Of course. Ignore the female._ They stood, Hermione with both her hands holding the boy's shirts. Her muscles were tensed, ready to pull them down again in moments if needed.

The wand around them came down. "Hold fire," commanded a voice. "Let's see what they have to say for themselves."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 5! 
> 
> Chapter 6 will cover half of sixth year - and then things will slow down dramatically. 
> 
> See you next Saturday! And Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates.
> 
> Please review and leave kudos!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting! I am currently in France, visiting my family, and I'm afraid I haven't had much time to sit on my laptop. 
> 
> On to Chapter Six!

**_Chapter 6_ **

"It seems that you had an eventful summer, Miss Granger," drawled Severus, leaning back in the comfortable seat behind his desk. "The Quidditch Cup and Death Eaters? How charming."

Hermione laughed, relaxing in her own seat. She flashed her teacher a brilliant smile. "Charming isn't quite the word I'd use, Professor. Those damn Death Eaters are a bloody nuisance. Yourself exempt, of course." It was no secret to Hermione that Severus Snape was a Death Eater- he had explained this briefly to her in order to make her understand the importance of shielding her mind.

The man scowled at her as she laughed. "Impertinent chit," he grumbled, sending her into a fresh wave of giggles. "What is happening with Potter?"

"Well," Hermione started, all traces of mirth gone, "Harry is rather charmed by the prospect of the Triwizard Tournament. He knows he can't enter," she said hastily to reassure Severus, who had straightened alarmingly. "He can dream though. And he can't wait to have class with Moody. Who is probably going to yell at him and then teach him more than Quirrell and Lockhart together," she mused.

"Right you are," Severus agreed with a nod. "Please attempt to convince Mr. Potter that entering this folly of a Tournament would be both stupid and life threatening. Although we would all share a good laugh if he entered and died, I am sure Dumbledore would be peeved."

* * *

They were in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Hermione was numb with fear. This was not the Moody she knew- he would never torture the spiders like that. He would not do it in front of Neville especially- as gruff as the old Auror could be, he didn't have any (well…many) sadistic bones in his body. He had been the one to mentor Frank Longbottom- there was no way he would do something like that to Frank's son. Moody was as tricky and paranoid as they came, but he was not someone who took pleasure in someone else's pain- unless they were Death Eaters, perhaps, but Neville was only a boy!

And now he was going to cast the Imperious on them. _Oh Dear God,_ she thought. _Oh Dear God let my defenses stand._ She stood- hands braced on the desk, shoulders straight. "This is wrong," she said firmly. "As of yet, the Dark Lord has not risen again. There is no benefit to be gained in casting an Unforgivable curse on children." A few of her classmates bristled at the perceived insult, but their rustling in the background did not bother her. Ruffled feathers meant nothing if the chickens escaped the ax.

Moody's face stretched into a bitter semblance of a grin. "You sound like a Death Eater yourself when you talk, missy. You're up first, then. See if you can throw me off." He raised his wand, but with only a fraction of Moody's usual speed. "Imperio."

_Start dancing. Move around. Put your hands up in the air, Miss Granger._

_But I don't want to._

_Too bad. Do as I say. Dance for me._

_I really don't want to._

_DANCE!_

_NO!_

_You will dance. Now!_

_No. Get out of my head!_

"Impressive, Miss Granger," Moody said, breathing a shade harder than he had been earlier. For once, both his eyes were focused in one place- unfortunately, that place was her. Hermione felt an urge to cross her arms over her chest. "Where did you learn to defend your mind like that?" _Moody taught me how to resist the Imperius! And he knows about my lessons with Professor Snape. What happened? Imperioused, Polyjuiced, Oblivated…_

Hermione shrugged, nonchalant as she could be when her mind was racing with possibilities, plots, and plans. "I'm very organized. And stubborn." She could see some of her classmates looking at her in wonder, then nodding when she said she was stubborn. Still, it was almost unheard of for a fourteen-year-old girl to defend herself against one of the Unforgivables.

"Hrmph," Moody grunted, his one good eye telling her he was more than unsatisfied. "Longbottom. You're up next." One by one he went through her classmates, instructing them to do impossible things. Neville back flipped across the room, Seamus imitated various jungle animals, Ron started singing in a very nasal falsetto, and Lavender got down on hands and knees and barked like a dog. It was when she got to Harry that she protested again.

"Professor Moody. Think about-"

"I will think about what I want, Miss Granger. Potter, stand up." Harry shot a look at her, clearly asking her to stay quiet. He wanted his chance to prove himself. And so he did- he wavered back and forth for a few moments before falling forward and hitting his knee on the desk.

"Good, Potter, very good!" cried Moody, thumping his claw foot on the ground. "Again! With all the Dark Wizards out there, you need to be prepared!"

As soon as class was over, Hermione was dragging Harry and Ron out of the classroom by the back of their robes. "Merlin that was brilliant! I wish all the spiders in the world could meet Moody!" Ron was exclaiming, pushing off Hermione's hand. "Blimey, Hermione, what's the matter with you?" _Of course, you don't care that a teacher just used a bloody Unforgivable curse on you, Ron. No matter that he may still be in the minds of one of our classmates, instructing them to act normal until given further instructions, such as to KILL HARRY!_

"He had no right to do that," she seethed. "And Neville! Didn't you see his face when he tortured those spiders?" Guiltily, both Harry and Ron glanced over at their classmate, who was being shepherded into Moody's office. Before Hermione could do anything, the two had disappeared in to the small room.

Harry twisted out of her grasp as well, and she allowed him too, glad that the man (whoever he was), was no longer watching them. _Or he is, with that eye. Good gods._

"I need to go to the Library," she announced, hefting her heavy bag higher on her small shoulders. "I'll meet the two of you in the Common Room after dinner." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a ripple in the air, the sign of a powerful Disillusionment Charm. Harry would be safe, no matter what happened. She needed to see Professor Snape.

She found him in his office, glowering angrily as he opened the door to her frenzied knocks. "Professor, it's urgent!" she whispered desperately. "It's Moody-"

"What about Moody?" Snape snapped. "He's here, he watching Potter for us like the paranoid little Auror he is. He's also teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts Position. Did I miss anything there, Miss Granger?" She pushed inside, shutting the door.

"Yes, you did," Hermione replied, with just as much snark. "Something's wrong with him. Either he's not the real Moody or somebody erased all his memories of the past two summers." She explained what had happened in her class, citing her reasons for not believing it was Moody.

Severus leaned back in his chair, surveying her with calm black eyes, face expressionless. "I see," was all he said, but at the same time he brushed back his lank hair and massaged his temples. "Well, you have presented me with an interesting situation, Miss Granger. If it is the real Moody, we are in dire trouble. No doubt whoever erased his memories managed to sift through them as well. But if it is a spy- an impersonator- we are in a much better boat."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked fearfully. "I see the obvious benefit- if they are Polyjucing, they need to keep Moody alive. But other than that-" she stopped for a moment, eyes staring straight ahead, mind moving at miles a minute. "I see. We use him to feed false information to the other side. We orchestrate what he sees, so we basically write his reports for him, controlling what he passes on." _Machiavelli's a genius. I knew_ The Prince _would be useful one day._

Severus gave her a thin lipped smirk. "Exactly, Miss Granger. Finally, a use for your clever brain. Now I ask you- do we give this information to the Headmaster?"

"Not yet," Hermione said, running through various probabilities in her head. "Professor- this could be especially useful for you." _Oh- this could be good. It's half impossible, but if anyone can do the impossible, it's Professor Snape._

"Oh?" Severus asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "In what way, Miss Granger?"

She flashed him a brilliant grin. "If you can pull it off," she began, "Moody will be perfect. Chances are he is feeding information to the Dark Lord- if you can convince him that you are still loyal the Dark Lord, you have someone putting in a good word for you."

Snape snorted at her. "So you are saying don't reveal that I know he's an imposter, but feed him information to give to his master. I have to show a man I'm supposed to think is an Auror that I'm still loyal to the Dark Lord? Keeping in mind I am controlled and calculating enough to never accidentally show something like that to an Auror? Do you understand what you're saying, you infernal Gryffindor?"

"Yep," Hermione said cheekily, still grinning. "You are going to be dancing a fine line, Professor. The imposter can't know that you know he's an imposter. You have to treat him like an Auror while showing him you are a Death Eater. You have to show that you're guilty while still playing innocent, and on top of that you have to be very careful he doesn't think you are actually innocent."

Heaving a great sigh, Severus glared at her. "You are annoying little know it all," he told her frankly. "And quite mad."

"If anyone can do it, you can," Hermione said charitably, shrugging off the insults. "You're five times worse than I am."

Severus frowned at her. "And what if the imposter has already been through Moody's memories? And knows about you and your particular function? And more importantly, my role in training you?"

She hadn't thought of that. "What would that mean for you?"

"It would mean that as soon as the Dark Lord rises again, I'm dead unless I can weave a pretty tale," Severus said shortly. "But perhaps Moody's own prejudices can work for me, here. He's never quite believed that I'm loyal to Dumbledore- he would have made a special note of everything I've done in the past thirteen years that would suggest I'm truly a Death Eater, and dismissed all evidence suggesting I'm not."

"And memories aren't perfect!" Hermione exclaimed. "His memory is his perception of things, which is distorted by his prejudices. But I don't think he went through the memories, not yet, anyway. He would have acted more… normal around me, I'm guessing."

* * *

"Good work, Miss Granger," Severus said, panting hard. "Now I see how you managed to put three Aurors and three adult wizards on their backs. By the gods, you're getting fast."

Hermione, also breathing heavily, beamed at him. "I practice, sir." It seemed the long hours of tossing knives at increasingly infuriating targets, then going through the movements taught her by Snape until they _flowed_ paid off. She had still lost though- Severus Snape was not a man to be tangled with.

Their fight had lasted for more than an hour- the first part had been magical, so the walls were showing the spell damage. The last quarter of the time had been when Hermione had lost her wand so she was fighting with a set of magically enhanced knives Snape had produced. They had long hilts, perfect balance, and running through the steel hilt was a wand core.

"It is difficult, but you can filter your magic though these," Snape had told her, showing her how to strap on the sheath. "It is similar to wandless spells, but easier, because of the core. You can guide the magic- but you will need to work on it to make sure your spells are at their usual strength."

Hermione retrieved her wand, standing still for a moment to acknowledge the warmth of the wood. Ollivander was right all those years ago- the wand does choose the wizard and every time she picked up her wand it welcomed her presence.

She returned to where Severus was on the other side of the room, shrugging on his teaching robes over his thinner under robe. Even though it was only September, the castle needed torches and warm fires to bring some comfort to the dungeons. "Thank you, Professor," she said slowly, almost regretfully. She didn't want to hand the knives over- but they were good ones. Probably ones from his own collection.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Granger?" he asked, tone not softening the biting words.

She started, hands pausing on the straps. "Giving you back your knives?"

"They are your knives," he replied, giving her a little sigh. "Silly girl. It is your birthday, is it not?" She squealed, thought about hugging him, then thought again.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. Although I'm technically not fifteen today. I'll be turning seventeen in a month or so." The thought excited her- the trace would be removed, she could learn how to Apparate, and she could be inducted to the Order.

Snape however, just frowned. "Very well, Miss Granger. You should have something else to do now, correct?" He was right- she checked her watch and scampered to an Arithmancy lesson. _She's growing up too fast. She won't be a child for much longer._

* * *

"It's time for me to go," Hermione said with a sigh, casting a quick _Tempus_ in the air. She was still frustrated over the loss of her watch- it hadn't been anything special, but still. On her wrist all the time, until she _needed_ it, looked at her wrist, and found it had disappeared. She needed one to keep up with her schedule and she would have to wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend to buy a new one. "I need to turn back three hours and go to dinner."

Severus nodded gravely, then held up a hand. "A moment, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor?" she asked, hefting her bag higher on her shoulder.

He held out a small box. "Open it," he ordered, looking as nonchalant as he possibly could.

Inside was a delicate silver wristwatch, thin and feminine with three dials on each side and three faces. One was the time- one had the time, one had the date, and the other had a series of symbols that she recognized easily. A small house with a three inside must be Safe House Three. The Hogwarts Crest, Hogwarts. A Potion's vial, Severus' office. A green eye, Harry. A knife, the practice room. A tower, Dumbledore.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed. "Is it-" she hesitated.

He sighed. "Yes, Miss Granger, it is for you. I have personally made it waterproof, fireproof, immune to most potions, unbreakable, unstoppable, resizing to fit your wrist, and able to weather your time shifts. It will heat if I tap one of the symbols on my pocket watch-" he withdrew his fob watch from a pocket in his frock coat. "And that symbol will light. The crest is clearly Hogwarts-" he eyed her. "I suspect you know what all of them mean. I've made them quite obvious to anyone with a brain."

"I believe so, sir," she said, smiling widely. "And if I need to warn you something?"

He gestured to her watch. "Try tapping a symbol, and concentrate on needing aid or assistance," he instructed. "The more desperate you feel, the stronger the watch will- ah. Burn. Careful, Miss Granger."

"Sorry, sir," she said, a bit sheepishly. "I was a little overenthusiastic, I think. This is brilliant, sir. Thank you!"

He gave an expression that might, on another person, have been a responding smile. "You're welcome, Miss Granger. It is tradition to give a witch or wizard a watch when they reach their majority, and as I am the only one who knew about your coming of age…" he let his voice trail off. "Well. Three and a quarter turns, should do it, what with the extra time?" _Well. With that reaction, I doubt she's realized I was the one to Vanish her old watch two days ago._

* * *

"How did this happen!" Hermione shouted, brown eyes flashing madly as she shouted at Snape. "Professor Snape, tell me _how did this happen?_ "

Surprisingly, Severus did not take her to task for her tone. "I don't know, Miss Granger," he said wearily. "Professor Dumbledore thinks that someone Confunded the Goblet of Fire into thinking that there was a fourth school. Potter would have been the only person to enter for that school."

"He's too young!" Hermione whispered, tears pricking at her eyes. "He may have survived against Voldemort twice, but people have died in this tournament. He won't stand a chance against Krum, or Cedric Diggory. Even Fleur Delacour could be a feasible opponent." She snorted. "She's as much a fairy princess as I am." A small, pale hand came up and took a tear from her cheek. Severus pretended not to notice.

"Then it will be your job to make sure he survives," Severus said simply. "Miss Granger, we are placing the continued survival of the Boy-Who-Lived in your hands. Enjoy it." He reached below his desk, and drew out a bottle of Firewhiskey. "Care for a drink?" _You've turned her into a weapon, no need to turn her into a drunkard as well. Bad idea, Severus._

"No," Hermione responded with a sigh, standing up. "My extra hour is almost up. I need to get back to the Gryffindor party before I'm missed. Goodnight."

In that moment, in the shadows surrounding them, Hermione Granger looked less like a fifteen year old girl and more like the seventeen she had just turned. Severus had never seen her look so weary; through the Glamour she always wore he could see slight bags under her eyes and worry lines. She was too young to have worry lines.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."

* * *

She aimed a kick for his head, mentally cursing as he spun away. On the next one, she caught him in the belly, grinning savagely when she heard the slight grunt of pain he allowed past his lips.

" _I see no difference."_

He seemed surprised by her viciousness that day. She used him as her human punching bag- when she could get to him. Her now-perfect teeth were bared in an angry grin, her tightly braided hair flew behind her, and even though she wasn't using her knives or her wand she felt invincible. Mad as hell, but invincible.

" _I see no difference."_

After a while, he stopped fighting back. He blocked her blows, he stepped aside or ducked when she aimed a kick to his head, but that was all. Finally, she stopped too.

"Why aren't you fighting back?" she growled, body as tight as a bowstring. "Give me a challenge god-damnit!"

"What is the problem, Miss Granger?" he snapped. "Tell me, or allow me to spend my time doing something more important than serve as anger management therapy."

She stared at him for a minute, then turned around to leave, collecting her robe and wand from the bench where she had thrown them. Hermione stalked to the door, and tried to throw it open. It didn't budge.

"On second thought," Severus purred, voice as smooth as honey, "I think you should tell me. I wouldn't want you to go out there so angry you forget to keep a level head."

She whirled to face him. "It was nothing," she spat. He knew differently- their eyes met and in a moment he was through all her defenses. The sudden blinding pain behind her left eye made her stomach roll.

" _I see no difference." His own face smirking slightly at her predicament, his silent laughter louder than the laughter of all the people behind her._

_She turned on her heel, and ran to the Hospital Wing, crying._

He immediately felt sick, almost queasy. He didn't like seeing her cry, feeling her abject misery and embarrassment and _disgust_ along with her. "Miss Granger," he said carefully. "I did not mean what I said."

She glared at him, fists clenched at her sides. "You had no right to look in my mind."

"Like it or not, Miss Granger," he hissed, "Not everything revolves around you. I cannot show that I have any interest or personal stakes in your state of mind. Keep in mind that there are two other Death Eaters roaming the school this year. Two other Death Eaters, and five children of Death Eaters that were in that hallway. What do you suppose Lucius Malfoy would say if Draco told his father I punished him for cursing a Muggleborn? Or if word got to the Dark Lord through whoever is impersonating Moody that I escorted you to the Hospital Wing?"

She flushed, tense stance relaxing a fraction. "I didn't think about that," she muttered.

"Obviously," he drawled, crossing the room to gather his own things. "I understand that you felt slighted, today, Miss Granger. But you are seventeen now. Act like it. There are things more important than pride, and as unlikely as it seems, Harry Potter is one of them."

His gaze softened, and unknowingly he allowed a sliver of sorrow to slip through. "Put away your wand and robes. You haven't finished what you started. And if I catch your mind undefended like that again and I will restart the Occlumency lessons."

* * *

"Potter barely survived the First Task," Severus stated flatly, staring grimly at Dumbledore. "As admirable as his performance turned out to be, Miss Granger spent the twelve hours before the Task teaching him the _Summoning Charm_. He would not have lived had it not been for her." _I should give her a salve for those nail marks in her face. Wouldn't want it to scar._

Dumbledore chuckled happily. "Then thank the gods we had to foresight to choose Miss Granger as his protector. And the situation with Mr. Weasley? Did Miss Granger have something to report on that?"

 _Always worried about image,_ thought Severus. _Dumbledore needs to be sure that all the staunch Pureblood supporters who are not as unconcerned with bloodlines as they claim still support the Boy-Who-Lived. What better way to do that then have his best friends come from the some of the purest, if poorest, blood in the land? Pure enough to be accepted, poor enough to be controlled with a rigged Ministry drawing. And should Harry Potter spend all his summers around Ginerva Weasley and fall in love with her, what could be better?_ "Resolved," was what he said. "He forgave Potter, per your… ah… suggestions." _If that is what you call asking the boy to come up here then planting the idea in his mind._

"Good, good," was all Dumbledore had to say. "Make sure Miss Granger assists Mr. Potter with solving the riddle for the next Task. It would do him no good to go in unprepared."

"You look lovely tonight," Krum said thickly, offering her his arm. She accepted, thanking him with a blush and a soft smile.

When they passed Harry, Hermione was gratified by the shock on his face. It hurt a bit, to know that he was surprised she looked pretty, but it pleased her all the same. "Wow- Hermione! I- wow!" _He doesn't know his shock is insulting. I'll forgive him._

"Close your mouth, Harry, you'll swallow a bug," she said, laughing. "Did Ron recognize me?" Her hair was up in a delicate twist, courtesy of Lavender, and several bottles of Sleakeazy's. The dress robes she was wearing fit her nicely, periwinkle blue (a bit young for seventeen, but perfect for a fifteen year old) and flowing. She wore very subtle makeup, again, applied with the help of her dorm mate. She had resolved to learn how to do it over the summer- one never knew when one might have to appear sophisticated or seductive.

"No," Harry said, mouth normal again but eyes still large. On his arm, Parvati looked put out, peeved that her date was paying more attention to his friend than to her. "He won't believe it. He's still upset that you turned him down." Harry saw the 'impending doom' look on Hermione face, and hastened to finish his sentence. "I don't agree with him, of course. You are totally a girl."

Parvati giggled, and Krum laughed, while Hermione glared at Harry. _That wasn't something I needed my date to know about, Harry. Thanks. How would you like it if I told Cho about- no. That's mean._

Then McGonagall was ushering the Champions and their companions into the Great Hall, and they entered to soft music, splitting off when they reached the High Table to sit down. Hermione found herself with Krum on one side and Harry on the other.

Dinner progressed smoothly; the food was excellent, the conversation entertaining enough, and the noise level bearable. Hermione spent a short time teaching Viktor how to say her name, and the rest carrying conversations with him and Harry separately. Fleur was having much less luck with her date- Robert Davies was staring at her, drooling slightly out of the corner of his mouth. Cho and Cedric seemed to be having a fine time, much to Harry's annoyance. He glanced over at them more than he looked at Parvati- Hermione actually felt quite bad for suggesting they get together.

The dancing was the part Hermione was the most worried about, unsure about Viktor's dancing skills. She needn't have worried, as he was an excellent dancer. Andromeda Tonks had taught her well, and the two of them were easily the best dancers out of the Champions. Cedric might have had training, but Cho was content to be whirled around in a circle. Davies couldn't quite manage to look at Fleur's face, much less the floor- the poor Frenchwoman was cursing lightly in French as he repeatedly trampled her feet. Harry was hopeless- Hermione vowed to remedy that soon.

"You dance quite vell," Viktor told her, a slight pressure from his hand telling her to go left as he went right. "I am imprevssed."

"Thank you," Hermione said, just as courteously. "I confess I was worried about my feet, but I was pleasantly surprised."

"It is a pity," Viktor said disdainfully. "That the boys you dance vith frequently stomp your delicate feet." The waltz ended there, and soon the dance floor was flooded with people. They continued dancing for at least five more songs before they left the floor, Hermione to find a seat near Harry and Ron while Viktor to fetch them drinks.

Hermione was out of breath, cheeks pink with exertion. "Well?" she asked Harry (who was unaware that his date was staring daggers at his back). "What do you think so far?" She felt a slight pang of guilt- she wasn't paying much attention to the person she was supposed to be 'guarding.' But she managed to shrug it off quickly. _It's not like anyone is going to leap out at him and try and murder him. They have the second and third Tasks for that._

Harry glanced wistfully at the dance floor. "I have no idea how to dance, Mione." Ron just glared at her.

"What's the matter, Ron?" she asked, sighing. She did not want to deal with him right now.

"If you don't know then I'm not going to tell you," the red head sneered. _Like that's not childish at all,_ Hermione thought.

"I'm assuming it has something to do with Viktor Krum since you've been glaring at us all evening," Hermione said quickly, rising from her seat. "For your information, Viktor is not trying to get me to help him with the Tournament. He is not trying to get close to Harry. He likes me and I like him and _that is all._ "

"You're fraternizing with the enemy!" Ron yelled. "You're betraying Harry!" His face was growing as red as his hair, a shade of mauve that managed to clash with both his freckles and his dress robes.

"I have no problem with Hermione and Krum," Harry said softly, but Ron paid no attention, as usual. When he flew into a rage, there was no stopping Ronald Weasley. As loyal as he could be, when he got jealous Ron would get _jealous._

"You're a bloody traitor!" shouted Ron, just as Krum returned with the drinks. The internationally renowned Seeker could take in the situation in a minute- and he was not happy.

Even though he was duck-footed on land, or perhaps because of it, Krum was intimidating. He was also three years older than Ron, much taller, and had a glare worthy of Snape. "Herm-own-ninny is not a traitor. Vis Tournament is for international cooperation. I vill not have you insult her for veing more open-minded."

"I'd advise paying more attention to your date than mine, Ronald," Hermione said wearily, accepting the cup of punch Viktor had brought her. "I will not have you ruin the Yule Ball for me. Goodnight." Viktor placed one hand on the small of her back, steering her away. Inside, Hermione was seething with rage, inner thoughts toward Ron scathing at the very least. _He has no idea how much I've sacrificed for Harry. How I've worked so hard for so long to keep him safe. He probably doesn't even remember that I was the one to throw myself between him and Remus._

She and Viktor danced for a while longer, then Hermione retreated to the sides while he once again left to get them drinks. That was when a contrite Harry approached her, apologizing for Ron.

"He doesn't really mean it," Harry insisted. "He's just jealous."

"Sounds a lot like what I was saying to you a month ago," Hermione retorted sharply. "Sometimes I can't stand him."

"We need you, Mione," Harry said, pleading with her using his captivating green eyes. "Ron will cool down soon enough. We'll make up, and it'll all be like it was before."

Hermione sighed, looking for Viktor in the crowd. He was talking to Dumbledore and Lugo Bagman, and from the expression on his face Hermione could judge that he would be a while with the two of them. "Thanks, Harry. Do you want to go outside and walk around a bit? It's a tad warm in here."

Harry agreed readily enough, and they left the Great Hall for the rose gardens the Hogwarts teachers had brought to life in the middle of winter. They were passing through the gate when Hermione bumped into one of the Beauxbatons girls.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "Pardon." She made to turn away, but something about the girl's innocently pretty face stopped her. _Quidditch Cup_ , she remembered in a flash.

"Eet is no-" the girl stopped and looked hard at her. "You are zee girl from zee Quidditch World Cup. You 'elped me find Madame Maxine." Hermione nodded eagerly- yes this was the same girl, she remembered the curly hair and freckles.

"My name is Hermione Granger," Hermione said with a smile, offering her hand. "This is Harry Potter."

"Pleased to meet you," the girl said. "My name is Charlotte Baudoin. Zank you for what you did zat night. We were so terrified- and Madame was right where you said she was."

The two girls talked for a bit longer, promising to getting to know each other better after the ball. Then Hermione and Harry left for the snowy gardens and Charlotte for the music and the dancing.

"Where's Parvati?" asked Hermione after a moment, frowning. The small Indian girl had not been with Harry when the two of them decided to go out.

Harry shrugged, looking for pockets to stuff his hands into, but finding none on his dress robes. "She's dancing with some guy from Beauxbatons. I was really a pretty bad date."

 _Yes,_ Hermione agreed silently. "Oh, Harry. You needed to pay more attention to her. She wants to tell her grandkids that she spent the night on the arm of Harry Potter, not that Harry Potter ignored her for the entire dance. How many songs did you dance with her?"

"One," Harry said guiltily, ducking his head. "The first one." Hermione took his arm with a sigh, and led him over to one of the benches. Along the way they passed Fleur and an ardent Roger Davies, so with a huff of disgust Hermione passed a few more benches before choosing one.

She swept a small beetle off the seat into the grass, then used her wand to clear away the snow on the bench. "There," she pronounced, satisfied. She and Harry sat down, and she cast a small warming charm on the two of them. "Alright. Harry. You should go in there and apologize if you don't want Parvati to ignore you for the rest of the time we are in Hogwarts. Because she and Lavender are gossips, and Harry, if you ever want to get a date in this school again you need to go say sorry."

Harry slouched down in his seat, hair flopping into his eyes. "Why are girls so bloody confusing? I think that's why Ron didn't realize it sooner, Hermione. You don't _act_ like a girl." He threw his arms up in frustration. "Why can't I just hang around you? Or better yet, why can't you write a- a guidebook for girls! There is only one girl I really want to date, after all." He gave her a look, which Hermione correctly translated to read, _Cho Chang._

Laughing, Hermione patted his arm, brushing away a beetle. "I know. But… I can't-"

"I know," Harry said, sighing and leaning his head against the cold stone of the castle. "You can't do anything. At least you're always there, Mione," Harry said, standing up, and giving her a hand. "Best friends, then?"

"Best friends," Hermione agreed, giving him a hug. They walked back to the Great Hall, hands swinging- nothing romantic. Hermione was determined to make Harry more comfortable with touching other people (his awful relatives, beating him like that!) and she was fine with grabbing his hand. It was a feeling of safety for both of them.

"And who knows, Harry," she said, as they paused outside the door. "Maybe Cho will come around next year. Cedric will be gone, after all. And not many girls can resist the Boy-Who-Lived."

* * *

The first Potions class back was an experience Hermione never wanted to even think about ever again.

"What's this?" Snape asked, swooping in the grab the newspaper from her hands. "Hermione Granger denies the affection of Harry Potter for Viktor Krum?" His voice had a hint of incredulous disbelief as he read the headline aloud.

"A piece of trash," Hermione said firmly, hands shaking below the desk. "Rubbish. Drivel by Rita Skeeter."

Nonetheless, Severus Snape humiliated both Harry and Hermione by reading the paper aloud, pausing after each sentence to give the Slytherins an opportunity to laugh.

"Miss Granger, fifteen, accompanied Durmstrang Champion and Bulgarian Quidditch star Viktor Krum, eighteen, to the Yule Ball, a Triwizard Tournament tradition." Derisive laughter. "The Champion is said to be 'enamored' with Miss Granger, but he is not the only Champion with his heart in Miss Granger's hand." More laugher. "Harry Potter, fourteen, our own Hogwarts Champion and Boy-Who-Lived, was seen having an intimate conversation with Miss Granger at the Yule Ball, where he was reported to have told Miss Granger there was only one person he wanted to date." Laughter, aimed at Harry, who was turning red. "Miss Granger refused him, but they parted as friends, with a promise of 'one day,' and they held hands as they left the rose gardens." At this, Ron turned and stared at the two of them. "According to several other students, Harry Potter and Miss Granger are never far from the other, and 'the entire school has been wondering when they would get together.'" Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then turned away. Hermione knew she was bright red.

Snape finished the story, which ended with speculation on Rita's part on whether or not Hermione would find herself with Viktor or Harry. "What a perfect little love triangle," Severus spat when he finished reading the paper. "However, Potions class is not the place to speculate on your love life, Miss Granger." _Could have fooled me,_ Hermione thought angrily. _Reading that piece of trash aloud in here._ "Please take a seat next to Mr. Malfoy- I don't want to find you and Mr. Potter holding hands when you need to be stirring your potion."

Blushing fiercely, Hermione gathered her supplies and moved. _He's just pretending to be a Death Eater. He's just pretending._

* * *

Later that day, Hermione met Snape in his office. "Enter," he called out when he heard her knocking on the door.

She slipped in, and removed the Disillusionment as soon as the door closed. It would not be good for the star student of Gryffindor to be seen meeting triweekly with the Head of Slytherin. "Good evening, Professor," she said warily.

"Miss Granger," he said, with a nod of his head. "Please take a seat." She did as she was bid, fidgeting on the hard wood chair. On Snape's desk was a copy of the Daily Prophet, Rita's Skeeter's article headlined frighteningly on the front page.

Hermione frowned, and motioned to the page. "Is there a problem with this, Professor?"

"Yes," Severus said smoothly. "If you enter into a romantic relationship with Viktor Krum, then you will no doubt be distracted from your one important task. There are three Death Eaters wandering the halls of this school, Miss Granger. Only one of them has good intentions. Sirius Black proved that the barriers we have in place can be breached. Potter is in more danger this year than he ever has been before."

 _So they cannot run the risk of me getting distracted and letting something get to Harry,_ Hermione realized. _They want me to break it off with Viktor and focus entirely on Harry._ "And say the other story in the Daily Prophet is true and Harry has a romantic interest in me. What would Professor Dumbledore say if Harry and I started a relationship?"

Severus sneered at her. "As unlikely as that is, considering your brain and Potter's unfortunate lack of one, the Headmaster would not be against such a relationship." _Because I would be even more invested in keeping Harry safe._

Hermione rose from her seat, crossing to the other end of the room. Severus followed her with his eyes, but let her move. "Viktor is the only person I can have an intelligent conversation with. Ron is immature and Harry _tries_ but he-" She couldn't find the words. Tears rose up and she pushed them down- she did not want Snape, of all people, to see her cry.

"I know how you feel, Miss Granger," Severus said slowly. He did- he was remembering how lonely he felt after Lily abandoned him and how absolutely desperate he was for conversation of any sort. Hermione had been without true intellectual match for so long. Too long. "Is Viktor Krum really your intellectual equal? Or is he-"

"He's a Triwizard Champion," Hermione snapped, defending him. "He's a gentleman, and he reads. And we aren't really dating or going out or anything. The Yule Ball was nice, but I will break it off with him." She knew the futility of asking to use the Time Turner- someone would notice she was in two places at once and too many questions would be asked.

She took a deep, shaky breath. "We'll be just friends," she said. "I didn't like him that much anyway." _Harry. It's all for Harry. Someone wants him dead. He's saved my life- and made me welcome in Gryffindor. One boyfriend who would be leaving in a few months anyway is nothing._

"If you should like, Miss Granger," Severus said haltingly, "I have a few books- rare books- that might be of interest to you. Come back tomorrow if you would like to pick them up."

Something clenched in his chest when he saw a small spark of interest in her eyes before they went blank and she nodded stiffly. "Of course, Professor. Goodnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 6. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience! As I said, I'm visiting with family in France - the land of 8 hour long Christmas dinners. All we do is eat. For hours. It is heavenly but doesn't leave much time for fanfic I'm afraid. 
> 
> Please review/comment! I love hearing from all of you. Until next Saturday - I'll be back Stateside by then so I'll update for sure.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!
> 
> I'm back in the States, so posting should be regular once more. Apologies for the delays!

_**Chapter** **7** _

In the end, Hermione did return the next night for the books, and they did cheer her up- they were fascinating and she ended up using some of her extra Time Turner hours to finish them. However, what really made Hermione walk around the castle with a secretive smile on her face was the discussion that had ensued when she returned the books.

For two glorious, glorious hours, she had a truly intellectual conversation, complete with complicated terminology, heated debate, and a civil cup of tea. True, the person she was conversing with was a snarky bastard who was clever enough to find obscure points and build irritatingly valid arguments out of them. True, he was also a man feared and reviled by more than half the school. But it was also true that Severus Snape was brilliant, beyond brilliant, and for two hours Hermione was in heaven.

When two hours had drawn to a close, Hermione had checked her watch and had to physically stop herself from giving a little mew of disappointment. "I-I need to go," she said regretfully, finishing her tea and rising. "I need to go back twelve hours and start the day again."

To her surprise, Severus might have looked disappointed, although she couldn't quite tell. "Very well, Miss Granger. I'll see you tomorrow for your report?" His demeanor changed with the question- he went from warmly sardonic and engaged to clipped efficiency in the space of two heartbeats.

"Yes, of course," Hermione said, packing her bag. "Thank you, Professor Snape." She knew he could see the desperate thanks in her eyes. She recognized it in him as well. _How can I possibly tell you how much that meant to me? That was the first time in months that I could talk with someone who doesn't think of me as child._

"You will be off schedule," he said, nodding to her slightly. "And please prepare a better argument for next time." It was all Hermione could do to not jump up and hug him.

But aside from her now weekly discussions with Snape, Hermione was spending more and more time trying to help Harry find the clue in the egg. And once they discovered that he would need to breathe underwater for an hour, both Hermione and Harry were practically living in the Library looking for a miracle.

"Harry- I may have found something-" Hermione said excitedly, eyes moving rapidly across a page in her ancient tome. "It says that there is this potion- damn. It takes five months to brew and it is ridiculously expensive." Harry was silent. Hermione looked up from her book to find him fast asleep.

 _I'll leave him to sleep,_ she decided, studying the slumbering boy. He looked so young, and yet so tired. _He'll need the rest for tomorrow. If I find a way…_ The Second Task was swift approaching and Hermione was growing desperate. _How on earth can he stay underwater for an hour? Maybe I can turn back another few hours and look in the Restricted Section._

At four in the morning, the Library was still dark when Hermione stumbled upon what seemed like the perfect solution- Gillyweed. The only problem left was how to obtain some within the three hours left until the Task. And then how to treat it so that it didn't turn Harry in to a fish- but she had ideas for that.

The situation was dire- and that was the only reason Hermione was rushing through the halls of Hogwarts to the office of Severus Snape, resident Potions Master. The only problem left (other than the host of other problems- but those she and Professor Snape could deal with) was how, exactly, to get Snape's attention at four in the morning. Presumably, he didn't sleep with his watch on him. "I am so going to regret this," Hermione muttered, spelling open the door to his office, slipping inside without being seen and shutting the door.

Immediately, she found herself immobilized and upside down. _This is so Professor Snape. Stop the threat and humiliate them at the same time._ Her cheeks felt like they were on fire- the Hogwarts uniform for girls consisted of a button down shirt, pleated black skirt, and House tie, worn under a robe. Unfortunately, Hermione had left her robe in her dormitory. _Lovely. Snape gets to peek at my knickers._

Her hands were trapped at her sides- she couldn't reach her watch with her wand to contact Professor Snape. _God damn it. He had to have felt the alarms trip, he should be here soon._

* * *

A few hours later, Severus Snape was taking his time dealing with the intruder in his office. He had _known_ Barty Crouch (as seen on Potter's goddamned bloody map- he needed to confiscate and replicate that as soon as possible) would try to sneak into his private stores to steal more ingredients for the Polyjuice. And the wards he had placed in his office were perfect- he had James Potter to thank for providing him with sufficient experience with humiliation and trap-setting. The added bonus was that he could finally get Barty Crouch back for stealing the ingredients earlier in the year.

He had planned the wards with that in mind, hoping he would get a rare chance to humiliate a Death Eater who was also, at the moment, a retired Auror. Severus Snape disliked most Death Eaters (most were crude and sadistic, cruel and sadistic, or some variation thereof) and most Aurors (most were Gryffindors and trigger happy, or trigger happy and inflated on their own pride, or some variation thereof). It was an opportunity that would probably never happen again- and Severus Snape intended to make the most of it.

As such, he was striding through the dungeons, robes billowing dramatically as he turned the corner. He suspected Crouch could see him with Moody's eye, and wanted to appear as intimidating as he could. Severus wrenched open the door, teeth bared in a grin, only to be confronted with…

"Miss Granger," Severus choked. In front of him was a very red and very angry teenage girl. Upside down, hair touching the floor, tie hanging in her face, and legs on display to the world. _Of course. It had to be the Gryffindor Know-it-all in my office at four in the morning. And she's been like this for two and a half hours. Gods help me. I never would have guessed pink, though. White. Blue maybe. Not pink._ With a quick slash of his wand, he canceled the spell, catching her head before it hit the floor. As soon as he was sure she was no longer in danger from a concussion, he jumped back as if a first year had lit his robes on fire.

Hermione glared up at him from the floor, brushing a few long curls out of her face. Her extremely red, angry face. "We will never speak of this again." The unspoken, 'or you will suffer' hung in the air.

"Agreed," Severus said hastily, retreating to the space behind his desk. "We need to work out a better of contacting each other when you need to talk to me." Hermione raised one eyebrow in a 'no duh' move, but nodded.

She stood, brushing her skirt down and trying to pat her hair down. "I'm a woman grown now," she muttered. "I should be spared these indignities." She huffed once more, and faced him, face still uncontrollably warm. "Do you have any Gillyweed?" _What on earth does she need Gillyweed for? Is there someone she wants to turn into a fish?_

But Severus just inclined his head once, turning to open the cabinet that held some of his more valuable or dangerous Potions supplies- of course, the cabinet in his office was not the best supplies as the Moody Impersonator had proven that perhaps the only safe place was Severus' quarters themselves. Nevertheless, he withdrew a clump of Gillyweed. "And this will make Potter breathe under the lake for an hour?"

"No," Hermione said. "I need an infusion of seaweed and asphosfel, powder of Mediterranean urchin, and a rinse of fresh water." She had had hours to think about the perfect treatment, after all.

Severus stared at her for a moment. "Have I ever told you that you are bloody brilliant?" _She couldn't have found this in a book- she must have found the properties of Gillyweed in some research text then used her knowledge of Potions for the rest._ This made him inordinately proud- a student of his succeeding in combining various treatments like that. _The infusion for the water resistance and only a partial transformation, the Mediterranean urchin for detoxification of waterborne poisons and warmth under the water, and the fresh water for the type of transformation needed. She's brilliant._

The next frantic, harried minutes were spent treating the Gillyweed- soaking it in the infusion, rolling the rat-like tails in the powder and rinsing it in the flask of Lake Water needed. When they finished, it was ten past nine.

"What now?" Severus asked, considering the tangled up ball of fleshy tentacles. "How do we get this to Potter?"

"I hate doing this," Hermione muttered. "Dobby? Could you come here please?" Hermione cast a containing charm on the Gillyweed, lifting it out of the water carefully. It wouldn't do for it to touch her skin. She set it to cancel as soon as Harry's feet were in the water.

Dobby appeared promptly with a loud crack, and disappeared just as swiftly clutching the ball of Gillyweed ("For the Great Harry Potter Sir!")

"We're done," Hermione said, collapsing onto a stool with a sigh of relief. "Harry can survive under water for one hour and our job is done."

"Not quite, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore, walking into the small Potions workroom, smiling genially. He ignored Severus' frown, and raised wand. "Don't worry about your wards, Severus. They are only temporarily disabled."

 _Dear Lord,_ Hermione thought. _Dumbledore. What does he have planned now?_

"I'm afraid I need to borrow Miss Granger, Severus. If you would, Miss Granger." She rose from the stool, yawning wearily and almost falling.

Snape steadied her with a hand on her elbow. "Miss Granger is too tired for your schemes this morning," Severus snapped. "She was up all night ensuring that your precious Potter wouldn't make a fool out of himself and the school at the Second Task."

"Miss Granger is needed for the Second Task," Dumbledore replied, voice a shade sharper than it had been before. "Viktor Krum needs a hostage." _The same Viktor Krum you made me avoid until he got the message that we were just friends? Consistency, Headmaster. Haven't you ever heard of consistency? And Miss Granger is capable of speaking for herself._ "You will need to go back three hours. If you go up to my office, you will find me there enjoying a cup of tea."

* * *

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" Severus asked the 'next' day in his office. "What exactly happened below the surface of the lake?"

Hermione sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Harry told me what happened, but Viktor gave me another version. I'm not sure who is right, exactly." She was so tired. Too tired. But when she had twisted back a day to go and sleep, she found a note on the bed of her private room.

Severus gestured at her to continue. "I'm waiting, Miss Granger."

"Harry said that they swam down to the city of the merpeople. In the center of their city square, The four-" she scowled. " _Hostages_ were tied to statues. Harry said he swam down, grabbed a stone, and started hacking at Ron's ties. Cho Chang was obviously for Cedric, as much as he would have liked to save her, and Gabrielle Delacour was for Fleur. Then there was me, and Ron, and since Viktor and I went to the dance together, he saved Ron. And Gabrielle, since Fleur was caught by the grindylows. Then, apparently, Viktor showed up and carted me off." Hermione sighed again, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "Is that all, sir?" she asked, yawning wide.

He nodded brusquely. "Go, Miss Granger. Meet me for your lessons at seven." She left quickly, almost falling out of her chair with exhaustion. He wasn't surprised- she had been up all day for classes, then all night searching for a way for Potter to succeed on the Second Task, then forcefully introduced to the draining effects of a magically induced coma, put under several hundred feet of icy February-in-Scotland lake water, and finally kept awake from sheer noise and pestering questions during the ensuing party.

He worried sometimes it was getting to be too much on her- watching Harry, fretting over the Tournament, acting in front of the fake Moody. _It's only until June,_ he told himself. _Over the summer, we can rest._

* * *

"How did Harry take the events under the lake, Severus?" asked the Headmaster, tucking away the refused lemon drops. "What did Miss Granger tell you?"

The night was cool for February, but the Headmaster's office was cozily warm. Severus shook his head, remembering the gleaning he had grasped from Hermione's mind. "Potter is fine. He was relieved that someone else did all the work for him and he got the Gillyweed in time, and he's proud of himself for disrupting the task by attempting to rescue all the hostages."

"I forgot to thank you for preparing the Gillyweed, Severus," the Headmaster said, taking a sip of his tea. "I was surprised at how well it worked, even with all your experience in the field of Potions. You might consider marketing it after the war is done with."

"It was mostly Miss Granger's work," Severus snapped. He couldn't believe what she had done, why should he expect Dumbledore too? Yet still, it angered him to see people overlook her brilliance. "She came up with the entire idea, then got that insane house elf to deliver it to Potter."

Dumbledore was as surprised as Severus had expected him to be. "Astounding," he breathed. "A child so young-"

"She is seventeen now," Severus corrected him. "She had the mind of a witch grown, and she uses it." Occasionally, he caught glimpses of a fifteen year old in her, put it was happening less and less.

"But even at seventeen it is impressive," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I am sincerely starting to believe that we made the right choice, those years ago." _It was only two years, for us at least, Headmaster,_ Severus said in his head. _For her, it's been more than four. And only now you start to consider that you made the right choice?_

* * *

Following the task, Rita Skeeter published yet another article about the supposed love triangle between Hermione, Harry, and Viktor. Hermione was furious- Harry was a brother, nothing more. Viktor- now he was a friend. But that didn't mean that it hadn't felt nice when his (very strong) arms had been around her, pulling her from the lake and warming her. And even after avoiding him after the ball, he still looked at her with puppy dog eyes and asked her to visit his family home in Bulgaria. She had closed her eyes, steeled herself to answer, and was saved by Harry's emergence from the lake.

The next few days after the article was published in Witch Weekly, Hermione was flooded with hate mail. The first few letters were disheartening enough with just words, angry letters berating her for going back to Krum and breaking Harry's heart. Then the really nasty ones arrived- the ones filled with toxic pus and curses.

"This is ridiculous," Severus seethed in his office, while bandaging her hands. She had gone to him after receiving a letter than exploded when she had tried to toss it in the fire. "You all are fifteen- and your love life is none of their business."

Hermione snorted, then made a soft nose from the pain. "Well, technically, Harry is fourteen, Krum is seventeen, and I am seventeen. It is really logically much more legal if I'm with Krum than with Harry."

"You don't look seventeen, Miss Granger," Snape pointed out. "Your Glamours take care of that at least- but you need to remember to continually reapply them. It was flickering at dinner last night- a few Hufflepuffs noticed."

Hermione rolled her eyes, searched for her wand, then removed her Glamour entirely. "I might as well leave it off here," she reasoned. "It's rather draining." Suddenly, Severus noticed that she was taller, that there were subtle curves and a waist present, as well as long legs. The Glamour didn't cover these aspects- they just drew attention to other things and reduced the affect if someone did notice.

"Very well, Miss Granger," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Have you finished Bonte's _Analysis of the Effects of the Salem Witch Trials on the Wizarding Law in Northern America?_ "

Hermione beamed at him, the expression looking almost out of place on her suddenly mature face. "He is a genius! I never thought to make those connections between the fourth clause of the American version of the Statue of Secrecy…"

* * *

Harry revived Ron, giving his friend a hand up from the cushioned floor. "Alright, mate?"

"Yeah," said Ron, blinking slowly. "Ouch."

"What else for today?" asked Harry, turning to Hermione. "We've practiced Stunners, Disarmers, and Impediment spells, plus all those other helpful little tricks you pulled out of all those books you read."

"The Task is a maze," Hermione reasoned, tapping her wand against her chin and swinging her feet from her perch on the empty teacher's desk. "You should know a compass spell that will point you to the middle of the maze. Here- the incantation is simple. 'Point Me' and you just let the wand spin in your hand. Ron- don't drop your wand." She demonstrated, then watched as Harry and Ron tried the spell.

They had been training for weeks now, preparing Harry for the Third Task. Hermione was not as worried as she had been for the other two- she was confident that she could whip Harry into shape for this Task. It was a simple matter of knowing spells, and being able to use them effectively. The only hard part was deciding what had to take priority.

Sirius had helped her decide what would be a wise choice, and what was unnecessary. Hermione tended to estimate on the far side, rather than be caught with something she wouldn't be prepared for. That was where Sirius was useful- he erred on the side of extreme risk rather than that of extreme caution. "Hermione. Harry will probably not be facing rabid trees. They're too tall for the maze. And enchanted bears are too easy to defeat. Are you certain about manitcores?"

"Hagrid," Hermione reminded the convict, crossing the other two off her list. "If he can breed Blast-Ended Skrewts, he can get ahold of a manticore. And giant spiders. And perhaps Fire Crabs."

Despite all the training, Hermione was still quite anxious as Harry was led away during dinner to meet with the other champions. This was the direct result of a conversation with Severus- the stern man had reprimanded her for letting down her guard, reminding her that this was the last opportunity to severely hurt Harry during the Triwizard- nothing had happened yet so far.

Which was why when, on the day of the third task, the enchanted watch she wore burned hot, then cold, the hot again, Hermione dropped out of the group making their way to the stands. A few hasty excuses about needing to go the Library worked their charms, and soon she was walking as quickly as she could to the dungeons, breaking into a run as soon as she was in an empty part of the castle.

Severus was waiting for her outside an empty classroom, face and fists clenched. As soon as she was within a reachable distance, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside the office. "You have to stop Potter from going into the maze," Severus said, speaking clearly and quickly. "I don't care what excuse you have to use, but Harry Potter can be nowhere near the trophy. It is a Portkey-"

Her mind leapt through all the possible implications. "I understand," Hermione replied quietly. _They made sure it was easy enough until now so Harry could win. He will be going about now-_ "I'll see you after. You're going to try and stop it?"

"Yes," Severus said nodding. "Good luck, Miss Granger. Godspeed." His ebony eyes met her mahogany ones, and they parted, rushing in different directions.

Her heart was pounding in her chest and in her ears as Hermione raced through the corridors, making her momentarily glad that she was clad in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Robes would hinder her progress, and she needed to be fast.

Even running as quickly as she was, by the time she reached the Quidditch Pitch it was past dusk and all the Champions were in the maze. All of them- Harry and Cedric had gone in first and Fleur had been between the hedges for at least seven minutes.

There was no time to make a more prudent decision- she and Snape had discussed a similar, albeit hypothetical, situation before. There was no way to reach the Champions in the maze, or see what they were doing, thus the need for the red sparks. Hermione knew what was needed of her- what was expected.

A quick Disillusionment would suffice. She didn't want to be seen. Quiet as a shadow, Hermione took a steadying breath and ran into the mouth of the maze. Immediately the sounds from the stands vanished, and all Hermione could hear was the quiet sounds of her breathing and an unnatural wind blowing through the hedges. If Hermione had been claustrophobic, she would have been in trouble; the walls of the maze were formed from thick hedges, grown to over eighteen feet high with the help of magic.

"Point me," she whispered, concentrating fiercely on Harry. Her wand swiveled in her hand, indecisive for a moment before pointing at the middle of a thick hedge to her right. "Helpful," Hermione muttered. "Right turns, then."

It wasn't long before she encountered a swarm of enchanted bees- bees made from onyx and amber with stings made of slender crystals filled with venom. They were dealt with using a shield and a mass Stunner, then a crushing spell. Hermione debated for a moment, then left them there. It would have been the perfect time to collect the rare venom- if Harry's life wasn't in danger.

The next obstacle was a mist that flipped the world on its head. Hermione froze stock still- to move one foot would mean being flipped inside out. At least she had her hand on her wand- a rapid counter-curse and she moved out of the mist.

She ran from a Blast-Ended Skrewt, fought some Devil's Snare, and pulverized a man-eating lily. It seemed she was in a section that had benefited heavily from Professor Sprout- the next plant she encountered were Binding Vines, wrapped around the form of a beautiful girl.

Hermione sent up red sparks with her wand, then freed the French girl. As soon as the ties were away from her mouth, Fleur screamed, until Hermione gagged her. "I'm trying to help you," Hermione said as the rest of the vines unwound. "I sent up sparks. They should get here by the time the vines are done." The girl just looked back and forth frantically at the rippling air that was talking to her.

Hermione continued on her path, checking on Harry's location every so often. Once in a while she heard a human grunt or yell, or a lion's roar from inside the maze. Hermione dodged a fleet of poison darts, leapt over a cleverly disguised pit, and backed away slowly from a manticore.

Well, backed away slowly from a manticore and right into the hard chest of Viktor Krum. The Bulgarian was surprised feel a warm body bump into his chest, but he recovered like lightening, gripping her forearms with his meaty hands. As soon as they were safely away from the manticore, Hermione had a wand pointing in the general region of her throat.

"Who are you?" Viktor growled, jabbing her with his wand. "Reveal yourself." Hermione drew her wand, pulling it out slowly, and leveling it with his belly. _Make them surrender their weapon first Viktor. Or Stun them and cast a revealing spell. And I thought you went to Durmstrang?_

"Imperio," she hissed, watching as Viktor's face smoothed over. "Right. Try and find Cedric Diggory, and take him out of the competition. Do not permanently injure him. As soon as you find him, send up red sparks." He gave her a dazed nod, weaving slightly where he stood before walking down a path to their left.

She went to the right- glancing up at the sky as she did. Dusk was fading, they sky a bruised purple flickering with the light of a few stars. There were fewer and fewer obstacles as she got closer to the end of the maze, but Hermione could hear hissing and clicking, and well as the occasional growl.

And finally, she saw the one she was looking for, standing in front of a _Sphinx._ A great, big, bloody _Sphinx._ Hermione forced herself to stay in the shadows, straining to hear the riddle and Harry's response.

"… the middle of middle and the end of end?" Harry was saying. "The _middle_ of middle and the _end_ of end." He even sounded confused to Hermione- she wanted to scream out that it was _d_ just the letter _d_ for Heaven's sake, when he lit up like a light bulb. "D!" he shouted. "Alright. And the last part- er- I don't know- wait! –Er! The last part is –der." The Sphinx just swished her tail.

"And the answer is something I wouldn't want to kiss," Harry muttered, running one hand through his messy hair. "There are plenty of things I wouldn't want to kiss. But-" he looked up at the Sphinx. "I got it. The thing I wouldn't want to kiss is a spider. Spy-d-er."

"You may pass," the Sphinx said, giving the youngest Champion a sultry smile. "I was the second to last obstacle to the Cup. Beware." Her lion's body moved aside, and Harry scooted passed her and ran into the clearing.

Hermione followed him- only to find the Sphinx baring her way. "You have not answered a riddle," said the woman-beast, glaring at her. "You must answer before you can pass."

"Then give me a riddle," Hermione answered, stepping back, watching the woman-lion with wary eyes.

"My first is twice in apple but not once in tart. My second is in liver but not in heart. My third is in giant and also in ghost. Whole I am best when I am roast. What am I?" recited the Sphinx. "Answer right and you may pass. Answer wrong and I attack."

 _This is easy enough,_ Hermione thought. _Twice in apple, that would be the letter 'p.' Second letter could be 'l,' 'i,' or 'v.' Last is either 'g' or 't.' Plg, Plt, Pig, Pit, Pvg, Pvt. Pig and Pit are plausible- but pigs are good roasted whole._ "You are a pig," Hermione said aloud, taking perverse pleasure in insulting the Sphinx. "May I pass?"

Reluctantly, the Sphinx moved aside, allowing the girl to pass into the battle scene before her. Harry and Cedric were fighting an enormous spider- Harry looked as if he was limping, Cedric was scrambling for his wand, and the spider was still advancing.

Hermione made a split second decision, casting a Stunner at the vulnerable underbelly of the spider, following it up with a few binding jinxes and another Stunner. Harry and Cedric didn't notice her- they stared at each other. Hermione collapsed from momentary exhaustion- to get through the defenses of an Acromantula was magically tiring.

"Both at the same time?" Harry offered. "It would still be a Hogwarts victory." Hermione debated the best way of taking care of the problem- take out Cedric, and explain to Harry? Or take out Harry and explain to Cedric? Or take out both? Reveal to both? What would happen if Harry found out that she was supposed to be protecting him-

And she looked up and realized that they were both stumbling to the Triwizard Cup.

A strangled scream ripped its way out of her throat. "No!" Hermione yelled, pulling off the Disillusionment. "Harry, stop!" She bolted toward them- Harry turning his head to stare at her, eyes widening, Cedric spinning all the way around.

"Hermione-" Harry started to say, reeling back as Hermione pushed off the ground and used Cedric's shoulder for leverage, pushing the Hufflepuff away from the Cup and her closer to Harry. "What are you-"

Harry stumbled when he tried to put his weight on his bad foot, hands shooting out to grab something to break his fall. "NO!" Hermione screamed again, lunging forward as his hand connected with the Cup. Her own hand connected with it- her fingertip barely brushing the metal- metal that began to burn bright blue.

Hermione didn't register exactly what had happened until she felt a sensation like a hook going through her navel, and she was lifted off the ground, Harry by her side.

* * *

Severus bore down on Cedric Diggory as the boy was taken from the maze. "Where are Miss Granger and Mr. Potter?" he hissed, looming over the tall seventh year. "What happened to them?"

"Portkey," gasped Cedric. "What the bloody hell happened in there? Granger shows up out of nowhere, and pushes me away from the Cup, then she and Harry go flying away-" He had cuts on his face from some of the more dangerous hedges in the maze, and was breathing strangely.

Frankly, Severus no longer cared. "Miss Granger is with him?" His words were deliberate, the tone one of a man trying desperately to reign in his temper.

Dumbledore appeared by the two of them, still partially hidden within the mouth of the maze. "Severus," Dumbledore intoned, icy sparks of pure anger in his eyes. "Leave the boy alone. Miss Granger and Mr. Potter have left the school grounds. The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey."

* * *

They landed in an abandoned graveyard- fog was curling out of the darkness, around simple headstones and ornate stone angels alike. The full moon was high in the sky, glowing softly with enough light for Hermione to make out the form of a church behind the leaves of a yew tree and a hill on their left topped with a grand old house.

"Wands out," she croaked, tightening her grip in the smooth wood. Harry opened his mouth, and she cut him off. "Professor Moody was an imposter. I ran into the maze to find you and warn you not to touch it." He closed his mouth again. Apparently, this made sense to him- and she wasn't about to question a stroke of good luck.

"Where to you reckon we are?" asked Harry warily, turning around in a full circle. "All I see are gravestones, headstones, and a few statues."

Hermione shivered unconsciously, mentally willing her hand to stop shaking. "We need to get out of here now, Harry. I can feel it, someone's watching us- there." She pointed at them with her chin. A short, ungainly figure in a dark cloak was emerging from the mists, clutching a heavy bundle to its chest.

Harry collapsed, eyes open but not seeing, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. She knew what was in the bundle now- the form of Lord Voldemort.

"Kill the spare," a high, cold voice ordered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 7.
> 
> Bit of a plot twist, no? Please leave kudos and comments!
> 
> The next chapter is the last in Part One. Part Two is when romance begins to bloom....
> 
> See you on Saturday!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now to resolve the cliffhanger and the end of Part One...

_**Chapter 8** _

The green bolt of Death passed a fraction of an inch from her chest as Hermione ducked out of the way. She retaliated with a Stunner and an Expelliarmus.

The short man in the heavy cloak stumbled back, giving Hermione enough time to try and pull Harry to his feet. The Boy-Who-Lived was, however, useless from pain, clutching his scar and whimpering. "Come on, come on, come on!" Hermione was saying, pulling him away and closer to the Cup. "It might go both ways, depends what Moody did to it-"

The cloaked man recovered before they could reach the golden Cup, the glint of the metal shining temptingly in the moonlight. "Expelliarmus," he gasped, Disarming Hermione as she desperately tried to reach the prize. Contrary to her expectation, he caught her wand, raising his own wand again, the hood of the heavy cloak falling from the top of his head to reveal his face.

"Wormtail," Hermione breathed. For some reason, she felt a swell of relief. _What? Why the only time I've ever met him I almost killed him why should I- Oh!_ "Stop! You owe me a debt, Wormtail!" The pudgy man actually did stop- he kept his wand pointing her way, and glanced at the bundle he had carefully set on the ground before attacking her.

The bundle squirmed uneasily. "Is that true, Wormtail?" it hissed, the same high, cold voice that had ordered Hermione's death.

"It's true," Hermione shouted, mind working as fast as she could make it. "He pled at my feet for his miserable life and as much as I wanted him dead I lowered my wand." It was true- she could see the moment with sickening clarity, how he had begged her, 'sweet girl, pretty girl,' to give him his life. She had turned away in disgust and the rat had then crawled to Harry.

Before them, Wormtail nodded and cringed, clearly expecting the wrath of the ball of cloth on the ground. "Yes, my lord. The girl is Hermione Granger- the clever one. The ones the papers say Harry Potter loves."

Hermione glanced down at the boy at her feet. "Let Harry go- you can take me instead-" even as she said it she knew it was hopeless.

"Very well," hissed the still squirming bundle. "Tie both of them to the headstones. We will use his blood to revive me and then I will kill her and torture him with her death." He had her wand- but she had her knives- and she had been practicing directing spells through the wand cores. She wasn't great at it, but maybe she could manage something. As long as he didn't find those she would find a way to escape.

The two students were dragged to a smaller area of marble headstones. Hermione was bound to one that read _Annette M. Riddle_ and Harry to one on her right, with the inscription, _Tom Riddle_. Hermione could remember a time shortly after second year when Harry had sat her and Ron down with a piece of paper, and written _Tom Marvolo Riddle = I am Lord Voldemort._

Harry was being bound in tight ropes, from neck to ankles. He struggled for a moment against the cords, and received a blow from the Death Eater. Then Wormtail pulled out a piece of cloth from some inner pocket of his robes, shoving it in Harry's mouth.

Wormtail turned to Hermione. "Don't make a sound," he warned her. "Or I'll find something else to shove in your mouth and you won't like it very much." Hermione glared at him, but nodded and held her tongue.

Wormtail returned to the bundle, picking it up when it stirred fretfully. He was holding it strangely, like a child- but the child could talk and give orders to _kill_ -

Below her feet, Hermione could barely detect a movement in the shadows, and the soft _whiskwhisk_ of smooth scales on grass. The giant snake let out a long hiss, winding itself around her tombstone. Hermione let out a small moan, drawing the attention of the baby-creature. "Not yet, Nagini," he said slowly. "We will finish my regeneration, and then you may have the girl for a treat."

 _I'll give you a bloody treat,_ Hermione thought rebelliously. _I will not be snake food. I will not die before I- before-_

Her train of thought broke off as she analyzed what was happening- Wormtail had brought a cauldron full of what seemed like water to a boil. However, soon Hermione rethought that opinion when sparks began to leap from the water and gather on the surface, until it looked almost diamond incrusted. Harry was stirring slowly by her side, opening pain-reddened eyes and trying to turn his head to look at her.

The bundle on the ground was moving even more erratically, as if it was trying to free itself. "Hurry," it snapped at Wormtail. "It's ready now, Master," Wormtail wheezed, picking up the source of the voice.

It laughed, a hissing crackle. "Now," it said.

Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a yell that was strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth. Hermione just moaned again quietly. It was unnatural- an abomination.

It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind - but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Hermione had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes. A demon child, the Anti-Christ, anything but a baby.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Hermione noted the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, Hermione saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Hermione heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

 _Let it drown, let it drown, please, please let it drown!_ Hermione was thinking frantically, looking desperately at Wormtail, who was steadying himself, and raising his wand. They had to get out of there before Voldemort was finished with his 'regeneration.' Her knives were close to her body- by her hips. She began to struggle with as little movement as possible to get to them.

"Bone of the father, unwillingly give, you will renew your son!" Wormtail said in a high wavering voice, dragging his wand in an arc. To her horror, Hermione could see fragile white-grey dust rising from the grave under Harry's feet, following the wand into the cauldron. As soon as it hit the surface of the water, it sparked and bubbled. The substance around Lord Voldemort was now a vivid, poisonous blue. She was close to the knives- Wormtail had not tied good knots and for a moment she was thankful to the repugnant man.

Now Wormtail was whimpering, throwing terrified looks at the cauldron and the beast-human inside it. With a cry of pain, he pulled a long, thin dagger from his cloak. Hermione stared at it for a moment, fascinated. It glistened alarmingly in the moonlight, and from experience she could tell it would be sharp.

"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master." He stretched his right hand out in front of him - the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. Hermione winced, turning away- Wormtail screamed into the night and she heard the quiet thump of the hand falling to the grass. She could still imagine the spray of blood, the four-fingered hand dropping to the ground. Wormtail had missed the cauldron. Sobbing, the man was kneeling on the ground, but he gathered his strength and picked up the hand to throw into the potion. It blazed a bright blood red into the night.

Hermione opened her eyes, hearing the ragged breathing of the traitor. He cut into Harry's arm, breathing heavily. "Blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will resurrect your foe." He lurched to the cauldron, and poured the blood in, then collapsed on the hard earth. Immediately, white smoke billowed out, over the lip of the cauldron and into the night of the graveyard.

_Bone of the father- for a person is first born of the flesh. The parents are the framework. Flesh of the servant- the people who follows a man shows who he is, gives him his power, the force. But the blood of the enemy- those who hate a man give him his driving force, the energy, the life. No one is perfect, no one is loved by all. Oh god. It's really happening._

In the haze, she twisted her wrist and finally grasped the hilt of the knife Severus had given her. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and began to maneuver to get the blade free.

A shadowy figure was rising from the depths of the cauldron, tall and skeletally thin, bald head thrown back in a laugh. "Robe me," he commanded, voice high and full of the lust of success. Wormtail, still sobbing at the base of a stone angel, stumbled to the black robes. Clutching his mutilated arm, he pulled the robes over his master's head.

The tall man stepped out of the cauldron, staring avidly at Harry with bright red eyes. His skin was skull white and stretched tightly over his cheekbones and eye sockets. His nose was flatter than Hermione would have thought possible, just a small bump with two snake-like slits for nostrils. The horrible red eyes had slits for pupils, lit with delight as his spidery hands caressed every part of his body.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Systematically, he went about the business of calling his followers, watching with careful eyes those who came at his call. As he walked among them, Hermione carefully cut at her bonds, remaining dutifully silent as she twisted on her massive headstone. He had just given Wormtail a glowing silver hand when Hermione freed herself. She kept one hand on the cords, however, sustaining the illusion she was a captive.

Harry noticed her work, staring at her with wide eyes. She winked at him to calm him, then nodded at the assembled Death Eaters with her chin. If the caught her at this stage of the game, it would not be pretty. Meanwhile, Voldemort was speaking at length on his journey to his new body, using his talents as a charismatic speaker to his advantage.

But when he turned and cursed Harry, Hermione screamed along with her best friend. "Stop! Stop, you're hurting him!"

Voldemort dropped the curse, leaving the Boy-Who-Lived slumped in his bindings. "Who is this child who defies Lord Voldemort?" he hissed. "Look at me, girl!" Behind him the Death Eaters shuffled uncomfortably. Hermione searched their ranks for a familiar form, recognizing Malfoy and Mulciber. Her heart sank as she realized that a tall thin Potions Master was nowhere to be found.

Hermione lifted her head, looking into the red, red eyes. Eyes that were drawing her in, black slits surrounded by crimson and ruby, eyes that wanted to come into her head and search out her secrets…

 _Legilimency_ , a voice told her. _Give him your false images. Now!_ She did as the voice bid, allowing her flimsy false walls to break under the dark wizard's onslaught to reveal her carefully planned false memories. She could _feel_ him riffling through them, pausing at a few, but just scanning the surface of others. She was weeping with relief inside her hidden mindspace, thanking the gods that he didn't bother looking further. For what chit of a girl could resist the Dark Lord?

"This girl," he said, turning to address his followers, "Hermione Granger, is a Mudblood. Do you want to show our dear guests what we do with Mudbloods?" He whispered a wandless spell to free her from her already cut ropes, and took her by the arm, dragging her to the open half circle. Above her head, Harry jerked frantically against his bonds.

He managed to spit free his gag, and Hermione winced, not just at the claw-like fingers digging into her arm. Harry was going to do something stupid. "No!" he shouted, straining with all his might against the ropes. "Not Hermione! Let her go and take me-"

With a flick of Voldemort's hand, he was Silenced. "It seems that the _hero_ of the Wizarding World has some… affection… for our little Mudblood," Voldemort announced. Hermione shook off his hand and stepped very deliberately between Harry and Voldemort. "Poor Harry Potter. First his father, then his mother… and now his little girlfriend…" he heaved a great, dramatic sigh. "And then him. Crucio!"

The pain was unlike any Hermione had experienced before- rippling through her body and scourging her insides. Her skin was pulling itself off her muscles, her lungs were attempting to crawl out of her mouth, and her brain was liquefying and pouring out her ears- and then it was over. She lay gasping on the ground, strength draining into the effort of breathing.

Around her, Voldemort and his Death Eaters were watching, some following the Dark Lord's lead and laughing. Although her arms were shaking fiercely, Hermione pushed herself up on her elbows and spat at the feet of the Dark Lord. "Bite me," she croaked out. "I won't let you hurt him."

"Feisty," he murmured. "I'd love to have it beaten it out of you, but I simply do not have the time." He beckoned forward one of his men, one Hermione did not recognize in the pale light and heavy cloak. "Make sure she does not interfere. And you might want to Crucio her again. In my experience, it does Mudbloods good."

With a deep rumble of laughter, the man pulled her, kicking and screaming, to the side and did as his lord had bid. Decades or seconds of pain passed until she was once again breathing heavily, flat on her back. She was inside the circle now, 'her' Death Eater training his wand on her warily. She twisted on the ground to look up at what was happening, and her heart sank in her chest.

Harry- wobbling on his injured leg and holding his wand shakily, looking all the while like he was about to pass out. He was forced to bow to Voldemort, shooting worried glances at Hermione as his spine bent and his nose nearly met the ground. She smiled weakly at him, trying to reassure him. A normal boy might not last a minute against the Dark Lord, but if anyone had a chance, it was Harry Potter.

In seconds, Harry was writhing under the Cruciatus Curse, screaming at the top of his lungs. It looked a good deal more painful that the one Hermione had endured- Harry's scar had split open and trickles of red were dripping down his face.

"Did that hurt, Harry Potter?" asked Voldemort, a cruel smile playing on the cold white features of his new face. "You certainly were screaming like it hurt. Do you want to see what it looks like again? No? Maybe a demonstration of how it looks on your little Mudblood friend?" A simple flick of his wand brought the awful, blinding pain back to Hermione.

Fortunately, it was over in a few seconds. Hermione had bitten the inside of her cheek- blood was in her mouth and she couldn't help coughing it up. She flinched when she saw the worry and terror on Harry's face- this was not the time for him to be worried about her. "I'm fine, Harry," she said. "Fight him, fight him with all you-" and she was screaming and twitching on the ground again, courtesy of 'her' Death Eater.

When she was finally freed from the Curse, she couldn't find Harry. She tried scrambling to her feet, but was kicked down by the Death Eater behind her. She collapsed on the ground with a sharp exhalation, just in time to see Harry leap out from behind a gravestone and shout a spell at Voldemort.

The crackling green of the Death Curse met the sizzling red of the Disarmer, and golden light was flying everywhere. It formed a bubble around Voldemort and Harry, sealing them off from the rest of the Dark wizards.

"Should we attack it?" asked the one Hermione thought was Goyle. "Send a few spells at it, or something?"

Lucius Malfoy sneered at the man, but Hermione noticed that his grip on his wand handle tightened slightly. "No, you idiot. The Dark Lord has a one-on-one battle of the wands. He will defeat the boy, and then-" he stopped. "He will defeat the boy."

Hermione's Death Eater nudged her with his foot. "What do we do with her?" Hermione glared up at him, and he kicked her again. Hermione made sure to land with her hands under her back, just where her knives were hidden.

Malfoy gave her his best aristocratic death glare. "She's a bloody nuisance," he snapped. "If that's really the Mudblood Granger, then she punched my son in the face last year. You can do as you please with her for all I care, as long as I get a chance to give her a kick or two from Draco."

A few pointing fingers and worried murmurs passed among the men- shadowy figures were now circling the perimeter of the golden sphere. As much as Hermione strained, she couldn't hear what they were saying. A few seemed to converge on Harry's side, patting his shoulder and offering what appeared to be words of encouragement.

Finally, with a good deal of wiggling and squirming, Hermione got her knives free without attracting the notice of the Death Eaters. With a grunt of satisfaction, Hermione drove one knife into the thigh of 'her' Death Eater, pulling it down in one quick slash. As he went down screaming, she whirled around in a crouch, heading straight for Peter.

He met her halfway, reaching for her throat with his silver hand. Hermione slashed at it, darting forward to grab her wand from his robe pocket. "Come after me again, Wormtail," she sneered. "I will cut off that other hand of yours- what d'ya say?" Hermione ducked the spell she could feel aiming for her back, twisting out of the way and slashing at another robed and masked wizard.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Cup glow bright blue- the signature lightening blue of a Portkey. With a wand in one hand and her knife in the other, Hermione began to toss spells at the masked men as she fought her way to the Cup. Halfway there, she felt a searing pain across her shoulders, then warm liquid seeping down. _Cutting Curse,_ Hermione thought, throwing a Stunner over her shoulder before ducking behind an angel for a moment. _Thank the gods for adrenaline._

Hermione slipped out from behind the angel, clipping Mulciber on the arm with a vicious reaching slice, and Stunning the man behind Malfoy in the same moment. A weak red light shot from her knife as well, hitting another man and making him stumble. She moved closer to the Cup, watching the sphere of golden thread above their heads for any sign of movement. Just as she threw up a shield at three Stunners that were flying toward her, the gold filaments dissolved and Harry hit the ground running.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "The Cup! Get to the Cup!" Hermione doubled her efforts, giving up on harming any of them and dashing to the glimmer of the Cup. One more spell brushed her arm, cracking the bone with a pressure more intense than anything Hermione had ever felt in her life. She screamed and retched, but kept moving to the Cup.

"Kill them!" Voldemort was shouting. "Kill the girl and Stun him!" Hermione set up a shield as she reached Harry, grabbing on the boy's arm. Her legs gave out, and she crumpled against him. She could feel the pain encroaching on her senses, making her feet stumble as Harry dragged her along.

Harry didn't waste a moment, shouting, "Accio!" at the Cup, pulling Hermione's hand up with his to catch it. Hermione turned her head to look at the last moment before the Cup hit their clasped hands, seeing the determination on the Dark Lord's face before deciding to protect the boy next to her. Deliberately, she waited for the spell to start spiraling to them before stepping directly in its path and turning around. It hit her in the lower back- she felt a ripping, tearing pain start there as the hot stickiness of her blood spilled from her body. She screamed for a short second before she no longer had the strength.

The last image she had of the graveyard before the Cup reached their grasp and a hook jerked under her navel was of Voldemort's triumphant face morphing into a mask of outrage.

They landed between the stands and the maze, in pure chaos. Hermione had begun to shake, pain rippling through her exhausted muscles. Dumbledore's worried face was a blur, but she heard as a sound like a cannon's roar emerged from his wand. The crush of people started backing away, only a few familiar faces stepping forward- McGonagall, Flitwick, and perhaps the most relieving of all, Snape.

"He's back!" Harry was shouting, the Cup long since abandoned to the ground as he tried to support Hermione. "Voldemort is back, he's returned and he has a body now-"

All the color drained from Snape's already pallid face, but he carried himself well. "What happened to Miss Granger?" he snapped instead, as Hermione finally gave in and let out a moan of pain as her knees failed her and she collapsed in Harry's arms.

McGonagall's head snapped to her and Harry, hands fluttering to her face in shock. "Mr. Potter! All the blood- is it yours or-" She could not finish. Her eyes seemed to be transfixed on the image of the messy haired fourteen year old clutching a slip of a girl to his chest, red staining both his robes and her pale pink shirt.

"It's hers," Severus breathed, scooping Hermione's unconscious form into his arms. It was strange, Hermione wondered, before giving into the comforting blackness that was encroaching on her mind. He was so tall and thin, but so strong. "We need to get her up to the Hospital Wing- both of them!"

"Fawkes," Dumbledore intoned softly, lifting an arm. With a flash of fire, the phoenix appeared. "Can you take Severus, Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing?"

The flame-bird chirruped comfortingly, turning to offer his tail feathers to Harry and Severus. Severus grasped two, to accommodate both his weight and Hermione's. Harry hesitantly took one, and the three were spinning through flames to the Hospital Wing in a way that was unsettlingly familiar to Portkey travel.

Fawkes deposited them in the Hospital Wing gently, Severus landing rather heavily due to Hermione. Harry, however, wavered on his bad leg before falling onto a bed. Madam Pomfrey rushed into the room, letting out a little squeak.

But she quickly recovered, ordering Severus to set Hermione down on a bed just as Dumbledore arrived in the room. "What happened to her?" the nurse demanded before returning to her diagnostic spells.

"I am quite curious as to what exactly happened as well, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, taking a seat at the base of Harry's bed. "Where did the Portkey take you?"

"To a graveyard," Harry responded, taking a deep breath. "We got there, and it was empty. Hermione and I got our wands out, and then Pettigrew came and he was carrying this- this thing that was Voldemort. He ordered Pettigrew to 'kill the spare' and so he tried-" Harry stopped at looked at Hermione, fear in his green eyes. "She _dodged_ it. Then she told Wormtail that he owed her a Life Debt because she helped save his life last year. Voldemort said to bring her along so she could watch and- and he'd kill her after."

Severus, who was paying as much attention to the scans as he was to Harry's story, frowned. "That does sound like the Dark Lord when he wants to be theatrical. And then he resurrected himself?"

Harry described the regeneration ritual in as much detail as he could, glancing frequently over at Hermione's bed next to him. Madam Pomfrey was frowning, poking at one of the glowing numbers with her wand. "What spells did they use on her, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"The Cruciatus," Harry said quietly. "At least three times, maybe more. And they kicked her and- Voldemort said that they could use her as they liked as long as they fed her to the snake when they were done. They didn't have a chance- something weird happened with my wand and Voldemort's-" Harry continued to explain to Dumbledore as Severus walked over to Hermione's bedside.

"How bad is she?" he asked Madam Pomfrey, voice low. "Do you need any potions?" The nurse had repaired Hermione's arm and closed the cut on her upper back, but was regarding the girl with a worried face.

"At least twelve minutes of Cruciatus," Madam Pomfrey told him. "This was her first bout of the Curse, poor child. And then the Bone-Crusher that grazed her arm, the Slicing Hex to her shoulders, and a Cutting Curse that hit her full in the back. It would have severed her spinal cord, but whoever did it wasn't at full strength. It goes deep, though. She'll need to be careful with that one."

"I shall get the Cruciatus Potion," said Severus. "Do not allow her to wake before I get back." He stalked to the door of the Hospital Wing, letting it slam behind him.

Harry didn't even jump at the noise, engrossed into the seemingly unbelievable tale Dumbledore was telling him. "Moody is an imposter?" Harry asked, aghast. "He was the one who put my name in the Goblet?"

"I'm afraid so, my boy," Dumbledore said gravely, folding his hands in his lap. "We have captured him, but with Voldemort in corporal form once again, you are in more danger than ever."

The door flew open again, Severus striding forward with a scowl on his face. At his feet trotted a large black dog. The dog padded over to Hermione's bed, licking her hand with a whine. He perked up again when he saw that Harry was sitting up and talking, hopping onto his godson's bed with a short bark.

"Look who followed me home," Severus drawled, shooting a glare at the Animagus and handing a small vial of blue potion to Madam Pomfrey. He wrinkled his nose at the dog, who was eagerly greeting his godson. "Now, now, Potter. Mutts are not allowed on the furniture." The Potions Master ignored Padfoot's growl, turning instead to the Headmaster. "The Minister will be here in approximately five minutes."

He thrust another vial of the blue potion at Harry. "Drink, Potter," he sneered. "While I am sure Miss Granger bore the brunt of your punishment, you seem to be suffering some of the after effects of the Cruciatus yourself."

Everyone in the room glared at him, but Harry drank the potion, blinking in surprise at the taste. "It actually tastes good," he said, shock evident in his voice.

"Of course it does," Snape snapped. "I made it for myself." Harry flushed when he realized why- Snape had not answered the call of the Dark Lord and would likely be facing punishment later. "I should go and prepare myself, Headmaster," Snape said quietly. "I need to go through my memories of the last fourteen years and hide what needs to be hidden." _Namely, all my interactions with Miss Granger. He cannot find out her true purpose, not yet._

"Go, my dear boy," the Headmaster ordered. "Report to my office when you return."

* * *

One week later, Madam Pomfrey released Hermione from the Hospital Wing, sending her off with stern instructions not to overextend and injure herself. The first place she went was Snape's office.

"Enter," he called out from within, in response to the knocks on his door. When the door opened and closed on its own, he raised extra wards on his office and waited. Hermione removed her Disillusionment and her Glamour as soon as she felt the magic around her rise in a protective bubble.

They looked at each other for a moment. "You can take off your Glamour," Hermione said slowly, haltingly. "I don't care."

He started to sneer at her, but stopped, face only half contorted. "As you wish," he said, allowing the magic to drop. Hermione had to stop herself from wincing, noting the black eye and the large bruise on one side of his face.

"So he wasn't happy?" Hermione asked. "I figured he would be pretty unhappy considering what I did." She took her customary seat on the chair in front of his desk.

Severus opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. "Not here, Miss Granger," he said. "It is best if we do this somewhere I am absolutely sure no one could have infiltrated." He stood and walked to the back of his office where a door was half hidden in the shadows. Instead of using that door, he put his palm on the surface of one of the huge stones that made up the back wall. "The long shadow on the grass," he whispered. A second door appeared, and he beckoned her through.

"Hermione," Hermione said suddenly, rising from her chair. "Miss Granger feels too formal." She passed through the wall, emerging in a barren sitting room. Severus followed her, immediately crossing the room to a large display case that contained what looked like hundreds of Potions on shelves. It seemed they were all an illusion, however; he unlocked the door, locked it again, and unlocked it twice more before passing right through the shelves. Hermione followed, into a much more comfortable set of rooms.

Snape gestured at an armchair, which she sank into gratefully. "Tea?" he asked, already walking to the small kitchen area of his rooms. They were luxurious, but not lavish. Decorated in dark forest green and brown, with hints of slate grey and black, the rooms reflected the personality of the stern man. Even so, a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace and the atmosphere was welcoming enough. A winding staircase was tucked into a corner, half hidden by a large bookcase. Off to the side of the sitting room was the kitchen, complete with a small table. A desk was stationed on the other side of the room, apparently very well used. It was littered with papers, all viciously marked with bright red ink.

"Yes, please," Hermione answered. _How surreal is this?_ she asked herself. _The feared and loathed Professor Snape is offering me tea in his sitting room._ She could hear him moving around in the kitchen area; curious, she stood and wandered over to one of the many bookshelves lining the walls. She let her fingers trail over the spines of the neatly organized books, recognizing some, but all of the titles. _An Introduction to Astronomic Psychophysics and Polyatomic Ions in Their Different Relations to Potions, The Collected Poetry of Emily Dickinson, Advanced Biochemistry in Medicinal Potions, A History of Non-Magical Species and Their Alliances with Humans, The Hobbit, Pharmaceutical Herbs and Their Uses in Modern Potions, Gathered Works on Transfiguration of Potions into a Gaseous State. How on earth am I going to get Professor Snape to let me read all of these?_

"Are you done snooping, Miss Granger?" Snape said darkly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat?"

Hermione turned around guiltily, ready to apologize before recognizing the half-smirk on her mentor's face as one of amusement rather than anger. "They also said that satisfaction brought it back," she quipped, returning to her chair. "And you can call me Hermione, Professor. It's one syllable more of a mouthful than 'Miss Granger,' but a good deal less intimidating." She accepted a cup of tea, stirring in one sugar cube.

"I think it is impossible for you to enter a room without immediately seeking out all the books," Snape grumbled, splashing a dollop of milk in his own teacup. "One day, you are going to get attacked by one of the more dangerous ones." _And then what would Harry Potter do without you to save his neck?_

She shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "The price I'd have to pay for my curiosity. Do you suppose it's a symptom of my unfortunate brush with Polyjuice?" She still retained some enhanced hearing, and she could see better in the dark than most people.

"No," Severus answered immediately. "You were alarmingly curious before you decided to experiment with one of the hardest Potions with legal ingredients. Your brief period as half-cat had nothing to do with it." He took a sip of his tea, sighing quietly. "But now to what we were discussing before. What did you ask me?"

"I asked if the Dark Lord was angrier than you had thought he would be," Hermione said again, holding her teacup with both hands. The warmth was comforting down in the dungeons. "Because of what I did."

Severus frowned, leaning forward slightly. "And what, exactly, did you do, Miss Granger?" His tone held an unconscious undertone of worry.

"Hermione," corrected the girl, throwing the man a long-suffering look. "I thought you knew. I blocked the last spell he sent at Harry." Hermione sipped her tea carefully. "I assumed it would be important because it was his last chance to injure Harry and I stopped it. I think it hit my back."

The Potions Master's frown deepened, the small furrow in his brow growing more pronounced. "He was extremely upset," he said slowly, swirling his tea in the cup. "I had to prove my supposed loyalty to him, then withstand several bouts of the Cruciatus, and then watch as others did the same. Some he believed, others he didn't."

"So he didn't say anything about what happened in the graveyard?" asked Hermione. "Nothing?" She was almost indignant, it seemed.

Severus shook his head. "That wasn't what I said," he drawled. "On the contrary. The Dark Lord was enraged at the fact Harry Potter escaped. You were mentioned briefly in passing, I believe. I know Peter, in particular, was punished for not checking you for Muggle weapons." They were quiet for a few moments, then Severus asked another question. "The Dark Lord tried to sever Potter's spinal cord. Do you know why it didn't work on you?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione admitted. "We were being pulled away by the Cup at that point. I know it hit me, though. I made sure I was between it and Harry." She shivered, tugging at a lock of her hair. "By that time, the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. And then we were safe and I collapsed in pain. So…" She let her voice trail off.

"So, indeed," Severus said with a sigh. "It must have been mitigated by the Portkey pulling you away." He gathered the empty teacups, Banishing them back to the kitchen with his wand. "Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it with a sharp shake of her head. Her face smoothed, and it was clear to Snape that she was using Occlumency to tighten her grip on her emotions. "No. I keep seeing it. In my dreams." Without her teacup to hold on to, Hermione crossed her arms around herself.

 _I know,_ Severus told her silently. _I see him in my dreams all the time. I see the dead body of my best friend, I see the bodies of people I watched him kill, and I see the bodies of the people I killed. At least you have no blood-guilt, Hermione._ "Do you want Dreamless Sleep?" he asked brusquely. "I have some, should you desire it."

She raised her head, staring straight into his deep pools of shadowed grey, her own clear coffee-colored eyes troubled. "No," she said, voice shaking. "It's too easy to get addicted. Stop me, if I ever try that."

"As you wish," Severus replied steadily, allowing some of his admiration of her will to seep into his voice. Not many who faced the Dark Lord and lived to dream about it had enough strength to refuse Dreamless Sleep. "You should talk about it, with someone who understands. Mr. Potter, perhaps."

He was surprised when she shook her head. "I can't," Hermione whispered. "I- I think I killed someone. I couldn't tell Harry." With a flash, it came to Severus. Antonius Druggar had not returned from the graveyard- apparently he had bled out- his femoral artery had been severed.

He chose not to sugarcoat it. The Dark Lord was back- and unless he had an unfortunate accident or a sudden change of heart, it was quite likely Hermione would kill other people. "I am afraid you did, Miss-"

"Hermione," she said again. "Please." She was pleading with him, and he could see it even though she couldn't. She looked alone, worried, lost.

He conceded with a sigh. "Fine. I am afraid you did, _Hermione._ He was your first, and I can almost guarantee you he will not be your last." Her face paled dramatically. Severus waited a moment for her to come out of her thoughts. "He was going to torture you, rape you, allow his friends to rape you and torture you, then kill you," Severus said bluntly. "In the last twenty years, he has probably murdered at least three dozen people. You did the world a service tonight."

Hermione drew in a shaky breath, one that turned into a sob halfway through. "What am I?" she said hysterically. "What happened to me? I put myself between an evil Dark Lord and his enemy, I cut at people with knives, and I _kill_ people. I'm Hermione Granger, I was going to be a _doctor_ and I'm only in my fourth year of school-"

"Hermione Granger," Severus said as gently as he could- which wasn't much. "You are an adult. You have fought to save your own life. You have put the needs of an entire world before your own, and you have killed for one of those reasons. You may only be in your fourth year of school, but you are almost eighteen. Act like it."

She didn't look at him in shock, or start crying like he half expected her to. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, then took a deep breath. "You're right, sir," she said. "I faced down Voldemort, and I lived. I spat at his feet, I insulted him, and I survived his curses. A few nightmares won't stop me." Her determined expression was gratifying to the Potions Master.

"Severus," he said suddenly, astonishing even himself. This time, she did look at him in shock.

Her eyebrows raised, and her eyes widened. "What did you just say?" she asked. "I'm almost certain I didn't hear you correctly."

"I said 'Severus,'" he answered snarkily. "It's my name, as I am sure you know. You may use it, privately. Tell anyone, and you will wish the Dark Lord had been more affronted at your insults." _What the hell did I just do?_ Severus wondered. _I must be going mad. But she deserves it,_ he decided. _Hermione Granger is no longer a child._

"Thank you," she said gravely, meeting his eyes again. "I-" The large grandfather's clock in the corner chimed the hour, startling both of them. "It's getting late," Hermione said wistfully, glancing at Severus' bookshelves. "Since I not taking the easy way out and using the potion, can I borrow a book to entertain me when I wake up?"

Shaking his head, he flapped a hand in her direction. "Take your pick," he said with a resigned sigh. "Any book from the shelf you were looking at earlier. None of those are dangerous."

She grinned cheekily at him, turning to consider her options. She took her time with the bookshelf, letting her fingers brush over the backs of one row, finally plucking one thick tome off the shelf. "Thank you, Severus," she said softly, as if she was unsure how the name was pronounced.

"You're welcome," he said. He rolled his eye when he noticed the slight reproach in her eyes. "Hermione."

She beamed at him, and he returned the brilliant smile with a dark scowl. He led her through the false cabinet, and back into his office. "Come see me when you finish the book," he ordered, knowing full well she would come whether he wanted her to or not. "I am interested to hear your take on the value of Transfiguring Potions."

"Of course, sir," she said. "And- thank you again." In the low light, she noticed all the shadows on his face. _He looks so tired,_ she thought. _His life is in danger every second of the day, now._

Severus' serious expression softened slightly. "If you need to talk, come to me, Hermione," he said smoothly. "Unlike Mr. Potter, I have killed before." His eyes glittered dangerously for a moment, looking off into the shadows before returning to her own. "The guilt does not dissipate," he said quietly. "But it does become less… potent… over time."

She nodded, her face regaining the rigidity it had lost for a while in his rooms. "I might not be any help," Hermione said softly. "But you might need someone to talk to. Or to be of medical assistance when you return from the Dark Lord's presence." She blinked at him, then smiled thinly. "You need not stand alone, Severus. I may not be able to do much, but I will do for you what I can."

He said nothing for a long moment, then inclined his head once. "We shall see," he said, voice almost a whisper. Their eyes met for another long moment, grey so dark it was almost black and a warm coffee brown.

"I'll be missed in my dorm," she said finally. "Goodnight, Severus."

 _She's grown now,_ he reminded himself. _She's a child no longer._ "Goodnight, Hermione."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 8... and Part One!
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos! I love hearing from all of you. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! 
> 
> Part Two starts next Saturday! Things will start to get heated.... See you then!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> This is the beginning of Part Two! As a warning, things are going to slow way down - instead of going through a school year in one or two chapters, it's going to take... many. 
> 
> I have a wonderful new beta! Her name is Sorasrardust and she's been kind enough to start going over chapters already, starting with this one. Shout out to her!

**_Part Two_ **

**_Chapter 9_ **

"How are you coping?" Snape asked quietly, appearing behind her. Hermione, who was stirring a cup of what looked like hot chocolate, did not flinch. She had enough control over her reflexes for that- but not to stop her hands from shaking. The kitchen of Safe House Three was empty in the middle of the night.

Severus was worried about her. In turn, this worried him. He was Severus Snape- he did not worry about other people. He worried about how their stupidity was going to affect the rest of the god-damn Wizarding world and therefore his life. But the woman in front of him, divested of her Glamour, had occupied his thoughts lately.

The sky outside the kitchen windows was dark, and in the soft candlelight, Hermione Granger looked tired. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and the absence of the mass of curls made her look both older and more vulnerable. As she turned to face him, he noticed that her collarbones stuck out sharply when she crossed her arms-  _ weight loss?  _ There were shadows under her eyes, and the light dusting of freckles along her nose stood out against the paleness of her skin.

Hermione held the warm mug tightly, raising it to her lips and taking a small sip. "I'm not sleeping well," she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes. "My dreams-" She stopped herself, taking another sip of the hot chocolate. "I'm alright, though. I'm worried about Harry."

It pained him to see her this way. "Hermione," he said commandingly, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she still kept her head to the side, he reached out, lightly brushing the side of her jaw. Gently, he turned her head until she was looking into his eyes. "They do go away."  _ Or they're replaced with worse nightmares, but you don't need to know that right now. _

In a flash, her eyes burned with anger. "It's been a month. Every time I close my eyes I see them. And I can't even  _ fight  _ to work it out of this because Madam Pomfrey  _ still _ won't clear me!" Her back was still healing- the spell Voldemort had used was persistent and had some nasty surprises.

"Hermione," he said again, folding his arms across his chest now that he was confident that she would behave. "Come with me." And he swept down the hall, allowing his robes to flair out behind him. He didn't look back to see if she followed him- he knew she would.

With a sigh, Hermione took a long sip from her mug and set it down in the sink, a small part of her wincing with guilt at leaving it for the house elves. As always, she brushed it away and hurried after her Potions Professor, wondering in the back of his mind how he made his robes flair like that.  _ It must be a Slytherin thing, _ she decided.  _ Draco's a prick and Pansy's a pug, but they always look… perfect. Unfair.  _ She glanced down at her pajamas- a ratty short sleeved T-shirt and a pair of shorts.  _ Really, really unfair. I need to talk to Andromeda about the art of looking sophisticated. _

They stopped at the door of the training room, where Severus paused. "Do you have your knives?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes," Hermione said, following him into the gym and slipping off her shoes. "I don't go anywhere without them." She lifted the hem of her loose shirt, showing him the dark leather of the knife sheath.

"Good," Severus said, taking out his wand. "That is an excellent habit to have. Now, do you mind if I do a brief diagnostic spell on your back?" She turned around, and he swished his wand slowly. "If you wish, we can spar," Snape said haltingly. "If you feel any pain, we can stop."

Hermione turned around, a feral grin on her face. "Let's see who stops first, old man," she taunted lightheartedly, the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. "I have been waiting for this for weeks!"

Severus snorted elegantly, rolling his eyes. "I have twenty years of experience on you. Mere enthusiasm cannot hold against twenty years of practice for long." He began to unbutton his robes.

Hermione stuck out her tongue at him, unstrapping her knives. "I've been training since I've was… thirteen… and now I'm eighteen… so that makes only fifteen years of experience on me. And since your birthday is in January, that's really only like fourteen and a half, so-"

"For Heaven's sake, be quiet," Severus said with a sigh. "Or people will stop asking you questions and stare because they've never seen a talking encyclopedia before." He tossed his robes to the ground, taking his own knives in his hands.  _ How does she know when my birthday is? _

Hermione sighed in her head.  _ Just a white button-down shirt and black trousers and he looks good, _ she mentally grumbled. The Potions Master was coming alive with the light of the fight as well, a predatory gleam in his eye belaying his calm, almost bored, expression. He cast a light shielding charm at his throat and face, as did Hermione.

They circled each other for a moment, before Hermione lunged for his throat. He twisted out of the way, slashing his own knife down at her back. She dropped to the floor and rolled, swinging one leg out to trip him. The expression of surprise on his face was priceless as he fell to the ground. Immediately, she straddled his back, pressing her knife blade to the back of his neck.

"I win," she said smugly. "Wanna play again?"  _ Twenty years' experience, my arse, _ was written all over her face. He couldn't see it, however, from his position on the floor.

She hopped up, grinning inordinately wide. Severus was scowling furiously, brushing his clothes off with as much dignity as he could muster. "Impertinent chit," he growled.

Their second duel lasted far longer than the first, Severus attempting to use his superior strength and Hermione her nimbleness and agility. Severus won that one, getting behind her, and putting both knives to her throat. The third duel was again his, but for the fourth Hermione managed to kick him in the kidneys and then 'stab' him in the heart.

He delighted in the purity of the action, the glorious dance of life and death. She was so quick, so limber. His breath caught at her dark innocence, the untamed wildness of the girl. In another life, he mused, she must have been a fey queen, a warrior princess, a lady knight. She laughed as she bent backwards and sprang up again, not a tinkling of bells but a release of joy at being alive and fast enough to live another day. His musings ended when she caught her knife on his arm, drawing a thin line of red blood.

In turn, she revelled in the loosening of the 'Professor Snape' persona, the freeing of the man within. His teeth were bared in a savage smile, one of the strangest expressions she had ever seen, but one that seemed right on his face. He was utterly silent as he fought, eyes laughing as he ducked a high kick or carelessly batted aside a swipe of her knife.

At last, the two collapsed into hastily conjured chairs, breathing hard. Hermione's back was on fire, but for the first time in weeks, she felt normal again. She let her head loll against the back of the chair, and sighed. "Thank you," she said, a small smile gracing her face. "I feel better now." Happy, and so tired. The pleasant ache from exercise was settling in her muscles, feeding her weariness.

"That was the purpose of this," Severus said smoothly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but voice still sounding like honey. "Do you honestly think I'd let a Gryffindor, and a tiny one at that beat me up in the wee hours of the morning for any other reason?" Wry humor echoed in his voice, a rare occasion. Most of his humor was either sarcastic or incredulous. Even so, it always made her smile.

"You like getting beat up by tiny Gryffindors," Hermione retorted, brushing back a few curls from her slowly cooling face. "But imagine if Harry or Ron saw that!" She started laughing, wheezing out amused giggles.

Severus sneered at her, something that Hermione was beginning to recognize as his version of sticking out his tongue, if Severus Snape could think of doing something like sticking out his tongue. "If Potter or Weasley saw me fighting, I would be saving their lives." A hint of arrogance fitted him perfectly.

"True," Hermione conceded. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that." They both knew it would. The two were quiet for a few moments longer, resting their tired limbs. Severus had enjoyed the fight- it was not often he got to spar with someone nearing his level of competency.

The silence stretched on, until Severus sat up straight and stretched, saying, "Hermione Granger, silent? You must be dead, dying, or-" he opened his eyes, expecting a comment from the Gryffindor. "Sleeping," he finished with a sigh. "And now I suppose  _ I  _ need to get you to your room because to wake you up after working so hard to get you to sleep would be cruel."

Severus unclasped Hermione's sheaths, tucking her knives away and picking up the slight girl. Her weight was foreign in his arms- Severus wasn't in the habit of carrying young women to their beds. Her warmth, the faint smell of flowery soap and clean sweat, the little sighs that puffed from her mouth, all of these were strange to the stern man.

He reached her room and opened the door with a whispered word, mindful of Tonks sleeping across the hall. She was already in her pajamas, so he whispered a quick cleaning spell and pulled the blankets up around her. She looked peaceful in her sleep, Severus decided.  _ She looks like she is still innocent. Like she wasn't forced to kill a man. _

He stood at the side of her bed for a moment longer, then left the room and the Safe House.

* * *

Dementors. In Little Whinging.

Hermione was spitting mad- pacing and shouting in a tight circle in the gym at the Safe House as Severus looked on, a hint of an amused smile on his face.

"Who sends bloody Dementors to a Muggle neighborhood? The fucking incompetence of the Ministry is usually a bloody mess, but this loss of control is nothing short of disastrous! What? Did they just get so tired of having their heads permanently attached to someone else's arse that they decided to try sticking their bleeding craniaup their own arseholes?"

A low chuckle escaped Severus' mouth. It was quiet and husky, snarky in its own way. It was enough to stop Hermione in her tracks because it was awfully endearing.

Slowly, she put her hands down, anger dimming. "Something amusing you?" she asked, pushing annoyance to the forefront of her mind- he would probably be embarrassed and never laugh in front of her again if she made any other kind of mention about it.

"Your vocabulary and syntax has Nymphadora Tonks written all over it," Severus informed her wryly. "Are you through?"

Hermione blinked, then nodded. "Yep," she said, nodding again. "Alright. Who do you think did it?" Her stride became lithe and predatory as she crossed the room to lean on the same wall Severus had used to observe her. They were face to face, close enough for Hermione to feel the light touch of his breath on her face.

On Severus' part, he thought she looked gloriously dangerous when thoroughly pissed off- she was all Hermione, wild dark hair and pale skin with glittering eyes narrowed into thin slits. Normally, when mad, she looked like a hissing kitten, not this being of destruction and vengeance.

But he just smirked at her, thin amusement dancing behind his eyes, a grey so dark they were black. "I didn't invest so much time and so many books in you to do all the work myself, did I?" he drawled, nodding once at her. "Your theories first."

He half expected her to make a snarky comment about his ageing mind, but she just retreated deeper into her mind, turning the problem around and examining it from multiple angles. Her brow furrowed and her expression softened, the rage melting off her face to make way for an intelligent, thoughtful expression.

"Who wants Harry dead?" she muttered. "Death Eaters, the Dark Lord. They would have attacked outright. But who wants him injured or soulless? The Ministry would love to have something like this- but it's too perfect for that cesspool of human ignorance to come up with. Harry would either have to leave his cousin, painting him as a cowardly muggle-hater, lose against the Dementors, which takes care of the entire problem, or fight back, which was the most likely option with his temper and hero complex. If he did lose his temper, that would violate the Statute for the Reasonable Restrictions on Underage Sorcery. The Ministry would be able to say they never authorized any Dementors to Little Whinging, and Harry would be branded a liar which would further discredit him."

Although his face was impassive, Severus was shaking his head with amazement in the privacy of his own mind. She was brilliant.

Hermione looked up, a look of deep concentration on her face. "We're looking for an up-and-coming someone at the Ministry, someone who would like to get in the Minister's good graces. He or she would have to have the authority to send out the Dementors and then cover it up. If it is a man, I'd say young and ambitious, like Percy Weasley. If it's a woman, she's either too self-respecting or too ugly to go at it the easy way."

That caught him off guard. "The easy way?" he repeated, mulling over her conclusion in his head. It made sense- except for that last part.

"Yeah," Hermione said, looking away and flushing suddenly. "You know. Ankles in the air. A pretty woman can get anywhere but the absolute top if she uses her looks from what I've seen of the Wizarding World."

"And you would know?" Severus asked slowly, deliberately, his anger growing.

She was still looking away. "Of course not, Severus. I said pretty girls." She finally met his eyes, her own defiant. He didn't say anything. "Mrs. Weasley needed me to help with the downstairs bathroom at Headquarters and I need to do another rotation." She walked out of the room, all the previous confidence gone.

Severus sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly.

* * *

Half-way into July, Hermione had begun to use her Time Turner in earnest, using it to split her time between the Safe House and Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was dusty and derelict, a faded glory of an Ancient and Noble House. Sirius was miserable there, and Hermione sympathized with him. The Marauder didn't have a Time Turner, however, so he was stuck playing man of the house. Or rather, dangerous criminal of the dirty Headquarters.

Hermione's more formal lessons had ceased- she no longer received instruction from Andromeda Tonks, Kingsley was staying under the radar at the Ministry, and she only got to see her Hogwarts professors on occasion. They were all busy with various projects- McGonagall and Flitwick were working on strengthening the school's defense for example. The two invited her to watch them for the first few days, when they were removing and replacing sections of the warding. She promptly returned to the Safe House and warded her bedroom against possible Death Eater invasions to practice. Dobby had to find her and beg permission to tidy the small space.

So Hermione's time at Safe House Three was spent reading and researching, sparring and dueling with Tonks and Snape, and having long discussions with Remus. Every few days, Snape would stop by around tea time, and the two would sequester themselves in a small sitting room to the side and argue wildly on a variety of subjects. Their topics ranged from Potions to Muggle politics, jumped between Dark magic to European dictators, and touched lightly (or not so lightly) on biochemistry and wandless magic. Hermione lived for those days- while Remus was nice enough to talk to, he didn't have Severus' biting wit, acerbic comments, or grudging insult-wrapped praise when she made a particularly good point.

But at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Hermione was miserable. When she wasn't laboring to clear away the pests and dust, she was putting up with both Ronald and Molly Weasley. The former was interested in copying her summer homework and hearing what had happened in the graveyard; the latter was determined to see her youngest son and Hermione together and was therefore pushing them together every chance she got. Ginny was sympathetic at least, but she wasn't quite the same as Tonks. The Auror and Hermione had grown quite close, but since they couldn't explain how they had known each other for years, they had to act as if they had just met and hit it off.

As much as she disliked denying the friendship, Hermione loved the opportunity to practice subterfuge, even subterfuge as simple as a bit of acting. She balanced her two 'sides' carefully- Harry and Ron and Ginny never knew that she was sneaking off, let alone where she was sneaking off to. There was Hermione, the over-achieving student who loved books and was waiting eagerly for school to start again. And then there was Hermione, the woman-girl who loved to fight with knives and spells, who slipped into the bathroom to go back in time and duel or debate with her Potions Professor.

At least she had the slight advantage of knowing what was really doing on when the Order met behind the kitchen doors. Severus and Albus had inducted her into the Order early in the summer, a small ceremony in the Headmaster's office. With a twist of her hourglass and a few disguising spells, Hermione was able to sit in on the meetings.

Which was what she was currently doing- sitting in on a meeting of the Inner Circle. Her other self was outside the door, listening halfheartedly with Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron. If she squinted, she could make out the fleshy Extendable Ears peeping under the door.

"When can the advance guard go for him?" demanded Sirius once again. "Harry needs to be at the Ministry on the twelfth for his trial. And it would do him more good to be here, around friends rather than his god-awful relatives."

Albus peered at the angry man, projecting his familiar air of grandfatherly disapproval. "Sirius, Harry must remain at his aunt's house for another two days. However, Severus and I have come up with a plan to evacuate him safely."

"Then we want to hear this plan," Remus said quietly, but firmly. Many heads nodded, agreeing with the werewolf.

Severus glanced around the table, dark eyes dispassionate. "An Advance Guard will arrive at Potter's house in the evening, and escort him to Headquarters. Simple as that. Mad-Eye will lead the Guard. Who wants to volunteer?" He sneered at the last sentence, as if he was expecting everyone to volunteer and was trying to discourage as many of them as he could.

Plenty of hands rose, and Severus sighed. "We are not sending the entire Inner Circle to rescue Potter," he snarled. "Tonks, Lupin, and Kingsley, take Doge, Vance, Podmore, Jones, and Diggle. Make sure they knew that you, as members of the Inner Circle, are in charge. You are competent enough to handle this."

Tonks, unfazed by his bad mood, winked at him. "And our favorite little lioness?" she asked, glancing over in Hermione's direction. "Will she come along?"

Severus looked over at Hermione, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head. "Too risky," she explained, in a voice far rougher than her normal tone. "And there is flying involved. Unless you want me falling off my broom onto some poor soul's roof, I'd best stay here, Severus."

The Potions Master nodded, then turned back to the planning. The Order members whispered among themselves briefly, until Snape's glare made them fall silent once more. "Then we plan for two days' time," he said harshly. "Tonks, can you figure out a way to lure that awful woman and her whales out of the house?"

The Auror nodded slowly, surprised at the level of venom in his voice. "I'll get to it," she said warily. "What time?"

"Evening," Moody said gruffly. "We fly under the cover of the night. We should get here in time for a late dinner, if you will, Molly."

The round woman nodded, pleased to be able to help for once. "I'll push back supper an hour, Alastor," she said. "Will that be enough?"

The group continued to work out logistics, before moving to the more serious topics, namely the prophecy. When Severus directed a pointed glance in her direction, Hermione cast a discreet spell at the Ears. The twins had been kind enough to show her exactly how they made them. She had offered to solve a glitch in invisibility spells and installed a glitch of her own at the same time. Now all the children waiting outside the door would hear a conversation on the rotating schedule for guarding Harry rather than anything important.

"What new information do you have about how the prophecy is guarded?" asked Sirius, leaning back in his chair, cocky as ever. His eyes were wary, but his tone held a hint of a challenge.

_ Heaven protect me from simple people who wish to know things beyond their ken, _ Severus thought with a sigh. "Nothing you need to know, Black," he snapped. "Just more information on the technical aspect. I don't believe you would understand how a difference in a rune can change the entire protection system."

Black obviously did not know, and was gearing up for a fight when Dumbledore intervened. "The Ministry intends to plant an informant in Hogwarts this year," the Headmaster interrupted, kindly. "Her name is Dolores Umbridge and she is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

Kingsley frowned, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "I know her," he said in his low melodic voice. "She's the Undersecretary to the Minister. She's a strong supporter of Pureblood rights, and her influence in the Ministry is one of the reasons our friend Remus has such a hard life."

"She has been the one to pass most of the anti-werewolf legislation in the last ten years," Hermione added, drawing surprised glances. She usually didn't talk much during the Order meetings. "Along with prohibitive measures against what she calls 'half-breeds' and 'lower life forms.'"

"Unfortunately, she is our best option," Dumbledore informed them with a sigh. "But there arises a problem in all of this. The Ministry has been working very hard so far to cover up any sign of Voldemort's return. We fear that she will begin spreading rumors and lies about the school of my incompetence and Harry's mental state. Please try to encourage those around you to see the truth, as long as it is not a risk to your own wellbeing."

Soon after, the meeting ended, members of the Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix spilling from the kitchen and Apparating off into the night. Severus remained behind, as did Hermione. The two of them waited until all but the Weasleys and Tonks remained in the kitchen.

"Goodbye, Molly, Arthur," Hermione said politely, pulling on a cloak. "I'll see you next week." The couple nodded back. Few in the Order knew her true identity; she was just another member to them, albeit one who was neither tall nor talkative.

She waited on the stoop for Severus. It was safer to go in pairs, now. They would Apparate to an alley in London, and from there go to Wales, before he would take her inside the illusion of the cottage.

He appeared a moment later, tall and solemn next to her. The door shut behind him with a bang, a force of the cold and misty summer that had fallen upon England. There were two gas lamps on either side of the stoop, flickering in the damp. Hermione caught herself looking at how the light played on the features of the Potions Master, highlighting the severity of his features.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, almost cordially. At Hermione's nod, he smiled slightly. "Same alley as last time," he instructed, before disappearing with a pop.

Hermione followed, spinning on her heel and concentrating fiercely on her destination. She knew she was in the right place when the acrid smells of rotting garbage and cigarette smoke assaulted her nose. Severus was beside her, wand still out. Two shadows peeled off from the clusters lining the brick buildings to stand in front of them. Hermione could sense movement behind her, and judged that others had done the same.

She sank into a fighting stance, the wand she was keeping a good grip on ready to whip into the motions of a Stunner. In the light, the shadows turned into men, thick-bodied and wearing long cloaks and masks.

"Hullo, traitor," one of them greeted Snape cheerfully. "Got a little girlfriend with you?" He leered at Hermione, who resisted the urge to shiver and lean into Severus.

Snape's upper lip curled in a snarl. "Archon. Did you lose your brain or sell it for liquor? The Dark Lord-"

"You have no right to call him the Dark Lord," hissed another of the men, this one short and bulky with muscle. He was the only one not wearing a mask. His bald head gleamed in the scant moonlight, a mild coating of perspiration making it shine.

"As I was saying," Snape said snappishly, glancing down at Hermione, "The Dark Lord was most pleased with the way I never abandoned my post." He was buying her time, Hermione realized. Silently, she cast small tripping jinxes in the area around the men, and exhaled a wind-moving spell. It would work slowly, but would bring all the mist and fog toward her, and therefore, Severus.

He has stopped talking, as had the two men in front of them. From what Hermione could gather from the conversation, their names were Archon and Gibbons. Now they too were gearing up for a fight.

"You cannot escape us, Snape. Bellatrix has told us of your lies. You never suffered for the Dark Lord," one of the ones behind them purred, giving Hermione just cause to turn around like a scared rabbit to face them. It appeared that one of them was a woman- red hair was piled on her head, and she had a distinctly curvy frame.

She raised her wand higher, managing to nudge Snape with her elbow. Three seconds later, they attacked. Hermione sent a vicious Bone-Breaker in the woman's direction, then Conjured a wooden block to take the impact of the Killing Curse the other Death Eater had thrown at her. In a sudden moment, she was glad they had taught her how to fight protecting another person. Her first instinct was to dodge, which would have allowed the curse to hit Severus square in the back.

The female Death Eater down, Hermione sent an Entrail-Expelling Curse at the other one she was facing. He dodged as she had anticipated, right into a powerful Stunner. She whirled around to help Snape, only to see him calmly fell the last of their opponents.

They looked at each other for a moment, breathing barely strained. "Are you injured, Hermione?" Severus asked haltingly.

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "What now?" she asked, glancing down at the bodies scattered around the alley.

"We dispose of them," Severus said quietly. "Are the ones you fought dead?"

Hermione fought the urge to flush like a twelve-year-old. "One is just Stunned," she admitted. "The other one- the woman- I hit her in the chest with a Bone-Breaker. Her ribs had to have punctured her lungs and heart."

Severus stalked over to examine the bodies, turning over the woman with the red hair. "Alcott," he murmured. "Damn you, girl. You had half a mind- you could have made something of yourself." He moved on to the next one. "Redd. You, on the other hand, were as intelligent as a doorknob. I don't see much difference now." He sighed, then reached into his robes and withdrew a shrunken potions kit. He expanded it, withdrew a small vial of a milky substance, and dropped three drops into Redd's mouth. He waited a few moments, then checked his pulse. "Dead," he announced.

"What do we do with the bodies?" Hermione asked, willing her voice not to tremble.

Severus gave her a strangely sympathetic look- but a look that would have appeared no different to his normal face to any other person. "We take a page out of Barty Crouch's book and Transfigure the bodies. Bones should be easy enough."

They worked quietly, incanting under their breaths and gathering up the five Transfigured bones. Without a word, Severus offered her his arm, Apparating them to an abandoned beach. The sea roared and pounded at the abandoned shore, scattered with sand dunes covered with long grass and reeds. The salty wind whipped her hair, and with a start Hermione realized that she hadn't lost her concentration- it was still a straw blonde color.  _ Strange how I'm thinking about my hair color when I've just killed a woman, _ Hermione thought, absentmindedly following Severus to a hollow between dunes. She let the Glamour drop.

He used magic to shift a hole in the sand, dropping the bones in and allowing Hermione to do the same with the ones she carried before releasing the sand with a solid thump. They shone in the moonlight, the bones, and Hermione's mind flashed back to the bald man, and the way his head reflected the moon.

"Hermione?" The unusually gentle voice of her professor snapped her back to full attention.

She turned her wide brown eyes on him. "Yes?"

"You were brave tonight," he said after a pause. "You helped, you kept your head, and you held your own. More importantly, you watched my back. You are a credit to your teachers."  _ I'm going soft in my old age, _ Severus thought to himself.  _ I'll be thirty-six this year. And thinking about my age is helping me avoid thinking about the one topic I do not want to think about. _

The seriousness of the moment held in the air for a moment. "Thank you," Hermione replied. "Why did they come after you?"

She almost regretted asking when his face tightened almost imperceptibly. "Bellatrix believes that I am not loyal to the Dark Lord. The crazy bitch is right, of course, which makes lying to her harder. But tonight was helpful. No one escaped alive to say I had help, and it will likely deter her from sending more lackeys after me. If I had had to choose a time to be attacked by idiotic thugs, this would have been it." His eyes flashed over at hers, dark in the reflected moon off the sea. "Two wands are better than one, especially when you have thrice that pointed at you."

Hermione breathed out slowly, letting go of most of the tension that was still in her body. For some reason, his comment had made her feel happier, lighter. She fought the urge to grin widely at him, clearing her throat and asking, "To the Safe House now?" in a voice as normal as she could manage.

"Yes," Severus said. "If you would…" she accepted his arm, and let him Side-Along her to the illusion. It was a complicated thing to do- and Hermione hadn't yet gotten her official Apparation license, so it was easier for everyone involved if Snape Apparated her through the illusion. She was tired and if she Splinched she didn't want to have to explain herself to anyone. It was comforting in a way- trusting him. Hermione Granger didn't trust very many people.

But she trusted Severus Snape.

* * *

Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place cold and hungry from the long broom ride and surrounded with an aura of something Hermione could only define as angst.

She ran to him, throwing her arms around Harry just to reassure herself that he was alright. The Dementor attacks couldn't have helped with his mental state- she had been buzzing with nervous tension for the last week and she hadn't been stagnating in Little Whinging for a week.

At first, it seemed as if he would just stand there like a log as she attempted to squeeze the living daylights out of him; however, Harry soon grabbed her as tightly as she was hugging him. She knew why- she saw him dead in her nightmares and she was sure he had been seeing her corpse in his dreams.

"It's good to see you, Hermione," he said after a minute. "I-" He flushed. "It's good to see you."

She gave him an understanding smile, patting his arm nicely. "You too, Harry. I'm sorry our letters were useless- Dumbledore didn't want us saying anything important in case they were intercepted."

A brief frown swept over Harry's face. "What-"

"Harry!" Ginny appeared from the top of the staircase. "You're here!" The perky redhead grinned down at them over the railing. "Come on up, Ron's waiting upstairs!"

More talk was saved for later, as Harry was taken up to his room. He glanced at the walls with a distaste that was obvious to Hermione, who pretended not to notice. Ron gave him a manly slug on the shoulder, and Ginny hugged him daintily. The siblings chatted incessantly, either ignoring or not picking up on Harry's swiftly darkening mood.

Hermione kept a cautious eye one him- mentally bracing herself for the coming explosion. Ron was in the midst of a detailed account of the Cannon's latest 'almost win' when Hermione nudged Ginny. The girl looked at her with questioning eyes, and Hermione nodded toward the door. Ginny frowned, but took the hint, rising from the bed and leaving the shabby room.

When the door clicked shut behind her, Harry finally exploded. "HOW CAN YOU JUST SIT HERE AND ACT LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?"

Ron was flabbergasted, eyes almost comically wide. "Harry-"

"NO!" Harry shouted. "VOLDEMORT IS BACK AND ALL YOU CAN TALK ABOUT IS QUIDDITCH!"

He looked ready to go on, but Hermione stood up and fixed him with her sternest glare. "Harry!" That stopped him in his tracks, fury still etched on his face. "Stop. Now."

"Why?" Harry asked resentfully, but with much less volume. "I've been cooped up on Privet Drive all summer while you and Ron are at the thick of everything. I come in, and all you can talk about is a losing Quidditch team! All I want to know is what is going on!"

Ron glanced at Hermione, then spoke. "It's not like we know anything either, mate," he said warily. "We haven't been allowed to sit in on meetings, or anything."

Hermione held out a hand, but Harry erupted again. "SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEY'S FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT- WHO SAVED THE SORCERER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM DEMENTORS?"

"Harry!" Hermione said again when he stopped for air. "Think about what you are saying." Her glare hardened as she advanced on her friend. "Yes, we've been together. We have been cleaning every waking moment to try and make this place fit for human habitation. Yes, you've handled more than Ron or I have ever managed. But remember that you cannot claim all responsibility all of our- our adventures over the years."

Harry looked slightly cowed at that. However, it wasn't in his nature to back down from a fight immediately, especially if Hermione was the one he was fighting with. His face screwed up again, and he turned a bit redder. "I've faced Voldemort-"

"So have I," Hermione snapped back at him, not giving Harry time to get started again. "Do you remember me screaming at your feet? Throwing myself in front of the curses so you would live?" Some part of her felt guilty at the guilt she was making him feel, but another, more vindictive side, was taking a vicious pleasure at the releasing of anger.

Now Harry's face was covered in guilt. "Hermione, I-"

"Who played the chess game that let you through to the troll, Harry?" Hermione demanded, stalking forward and backing him against a wall. "Who fought the troll with you? Who solved Snape's riddle? Who discovered Slytherin's Monster was a basilisk? Who went with you to fight the bloody thing? Who ran through the Triwizard maze to try and warn you about the Dark Lord? Who begged him to spare you and take her instead?"

Ron was staring in amazement, seeing Harry backing away from a slip of a girl. Granted, that girl looked fierce, eyes alight with a cold sort of burning rage that made Ron shiver slightly. Harry looked as if he was regretting his earlier words, but Hermione was having none of it.

"Yes, you are the Boy-Who-Lived, and yes, you've done more than any of us. But don't forget that you've had help, Harry." The anger dissipated from Hermione's face, and she regarded him with a calm expression.

Harry looked down at her sheepishly. "I know, Hermione. I'm sorry. I'm just- upset."

"I know," Hermione said, hugging him again. "Just don't forget those who've helped you along with way." When they parted, the compassion in her eyes made something in Harry relax. He knew that she forgave him.

Hermione led him over to the bed, and sat down next to him. "How have you been dealing with everything, Harry?" she asked him seriously. "Are you having bad dreams, or flashbacks, or anything of the sort?"

Shocked, Harry nodded. "Yeah- I've been dreaming about it. How'd you-" He flushed, glancing down to the side guiltily. "Oh. Yeah."

"We can talk later," Hermione said comfortingly, stopping herself from glancing at Ron. The boy was absurdly jealous of the connection Harry and Hermione shared from their experience in the graveyard. No matter how many times Hermione repeated that it was not something either of them would want to be repeated, Ron would not let go of his jealousy.

Harry threw her a grateful look. "Thanks, Mione."

"No problem," she replied, winking at him. "I'm here for you. No matter what."

_________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 9.
> 
> See you all next Saturday! Please leave comments and kudos.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope everyone had a great week. On to a new chapter of FTOH, yet again beta'd by the lovely Sorasrardust!

**_Chapter 10_ **

The first night Harry slept at Grimmauld Place, he woke up screaming. Hermione was at his side in a minute, and he willingly grabbed on to her and refused to let go. "It's okay now," she told him, gently running her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "You're alright now."

"You were dead," Harry whispered, clinging to her like a drowning man. "He killed you." There was desperation in his voice, the kind that spoke to Hermione about how much he truly cared about her. She felt a wave of tenderness toward this small, scared man-child, and hugged him closer.

_ Oh, Harry. How many times is this man going to ruin your life? _ "No, Harry. No, he didn't," Hermione whispered back. "I'm here."

"What is going on here?" demanded a rumpled Mrs. Weasley, clad in a pink dressing gown and worn slippers. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry ignored her, but Hermione answered the matron's question. "He'll be fine soon, Mrs. Weasley," she called out. "He had a nightmare."

The woman frowned. "I don't think it is appropriate for you to be in his bed-"

"I disagree, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said in a warning tone. "On the contrary, it is very appropriate." Her eyes reminded the woman that she had faced down Voldemort, and spat at his feet. The Order had heard parts of the tale, what Dumbledore had seen fit to tell them. And Hermione could be intimidating when she wanted to be.

Ron looked on with sleepy eyes, confusion and a sense of unease growing in the boy. "Hermione. You're-" he stopped talking at the look on Hermione's face. Ginny, awakened by Harry's screams and Hermione's departure, poked her head in the room.

Hermione kept her eyes locked with Mrs. Weasley's. "I'll come and get you when he feels better, Mrs. Weasley," she said, a clear dismissal. The older woman, stiffened, but turned to leave, shutting the door and ushering her daughter back down the hall.

Harry's breathing gradually slowed, and his iron tight grip on Hermione loosened. "I'm- sorry, Hermione." He was a little red, glancing up at her.

"No problem, Harry," Hermione said. "Do you think you can go back to sleep now?" She hoped he could read the sympathy in her eyes. It was obvious he was drawing comfort from the contact, but she withdrew when he nodded.

She bent down, and kissed him on the forehead. She brushed her wand with her fingers, and with a whispered word and a much-practised spell, Hermione cleaned the sweat-soaked covers and drew them up around Harry's chin, kneeling by the bed. He did not notice the new freshness, or if he did, he did not say anything. "Goodnight, Harry. We'll have that talk tomorrow."

"Alright," said the sleepy savior. "See you tomorrow, Hermione."

Hermione smiled down on him gently, then turned that same smile on Ron. "I'll be off, then," she said as she stood cautiously. When she rose too fast after sitting for a long while, her injury would send twinges of protest up her back.

Outside the room, Mrs. Weasley was nowhere to be seen. However, a lanky Potions Master was leaning against the wall next to Harry's door. He just regarded her with his grey eyes, staying silent as she eased the door shut.

"Well?" he asked in a low voice, gaze intense and face hardened.

She sighed, leaning against the wall herself. "Do you want to talk about this here, or somewhere else?"

He turned around abruptly, stalking off in the direction of the stairs. She took that as a 'somewhere else,' wishing she could duck into her room quickly to grab her over robe before potentially leaving the Headquarters. It didn't matter though. Not really.

However, instead of leading her from the dark house, Severus instead stopped at a door on the fourth floor, far away from the rooms held by the rest of the Weasleys. He opened the door and with a quick, annoyed sweep of his hand, gestured her inside. She stepped into the room, looking around discreetly as he followed her and shut the door behind the both of them.

The room was Spartan; a middling-size bed took up one corner, placed in such a way that the person opening the door wouldn't see the occupant of the bed, but he would see them. A chest of drawers stood against the wall, and on the opposite corner of the room was a portable Potions Lab. Some potions were steadily bubbling way- Severus Snape was the Order's resident Potions Master after all.

There was no place to sit; instead, she stood uncomfortable in the center of the room, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around herself. It was Severus. She had nothing to fear from him. So she let her hands dangle at her sides, a sprinkling of gooseflesh working its way up from her elbows.

And speaking of Severus… he was shrugging off his over robe, obviously slipped on to make himself 'presentable' enough to observe the commotion unseen. Under it, he wore his customary button-down white shirt and black slacks.

He scowled at her. Her heart skipped a beat, either from fear or something else. "So?"

"He had a bad dream," Hermione said quietly. "He woke up screaming-"

"I knew that," he snapped. "I do have ears. He hasn't found a way to cope?" For all his annoyance, Hermione could detect a hint of worry in his tone.

She shook her head. "No, but we are going to work on that. What worries me is what I saw. I did some surface Legilimency, just a brush to see what the dream was about."

Interest changed his face. Curiosity was not only a trait of Hermione's, it seemed. "Not what happened with the Dark Lord?"

"That was there, but it was not everything," Hermione said flippantly, giving him a look that read,  _ of course, it had to do with what happened with the Dark Lord.  _ "But it was what was happening before that dream that's got me confused. It's a room- and a door-" she gave a frustrated sigh. "What if I just show it to you?"

His eyes blazed at her, strangely vulnerable. "I don't have a Pensieve. I would have to invade your mind." He had stopped the Occlumency lessons months ago, explaining it in his usual manner.  _ If you can hold the Dark Lord away from your mind, you need no further lessons. However, if you slack off in practice, I will find out and I will treat you accordingly. _

She shrugged. "I don't care." She didn't, really. If there was one person she didn't mind being- well, being inside her mind, it would be Severus Snape.

"You don't understand what you just said," Severus said quickly, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Your mind is your own, you don't let other people in. That's the  _ purpose _ of Occlumency. To keep people out. If you give a skilled Legilimens a way through your defenses, they could wreak havoc in your mindscape and you would be powerless to stop them."

"I understood what I said," said Hermione. "I'm a grown woman now- I have enough sense to know that you're not going to hurt me." And she seemed the woman at that moment: her youthful body poised in a kind of taunt relaxation that, together with the mess of ringlets that was her hair and the expression on her pale face and dark eyes, brought to mind the primeval forests with their fey…

And then he was snapped back to reality (which consisted of a room in a mansion of a man he had hated since childhood) and she had tilted her head to the side. "I trust you."

That- that floored him. His first instinct was to scowl at her, reprimand her for the stupidity of trusting a man such as he. Severus Snape was a  _ spy _ for Merlin's sake. A double crosser and doubly dangerous- both sides knew he was a spy for the other. No one should trust him. He didn't even trust himself, sometimes. She couldn't trust him- she was brilliant, perfect, untouched- it was impossible.

But he remembered that she wasn't untouched. She had faced down the Dark Lord, she had felt him rooting around in her mind, she had desperately hidden her secrets from him. She knew what it was like to have to concentrate on keeping your defenses up while concentrating on making sure it did not appear like your defenses were up, all the while projecting false thoughts that you had to think at the same time you were thinking your real thoughts. She could do complicated.

Which was good. Because he was complicated. But could she trust him? That was what was bothering him- she trusted him, but he wasn't sure if she should. In that moment, he decided that she should trust him. That she was right.

So instead of scowling and hurling a scathing remark at her intellect, he stepped forward, until the space between them was small enough for him to smell the shampoo she used for her hair, the lingering stench of boy-sweat from Potter's nightmare, and the faint scent of her skin. He could see the small scattering of freckles across her nose, the coarseness of her curling hair, the small bite mark left by her own front teeth on her lip.

"Are you ready?" he murmured, voice low and silky. She inhaled sharply, and he wondered vaguely if she was afraid and untrusting of him after all.

He half expected her to shake her head, refuse, but instead she raised her chin and looked directly in his eyes. He brought a hand up to grasp her chin, holding it lightly to make sure eye contact would not be lost. The height difference between them was significant- it could be devastating for both her and him if he was swiftly wrenched from her mind.

"Yes," she breathed, and he delved into her mind.

First, those brown, brown eyes that held rings of color, flecked with green or hazel or  _ something _ that drew him in. It was simple from there to slide between two rings of light then darker finished wood, and into her mind.

In his mind's eye, he could see her mindscape. There were distracting snippets of thought, but he focused on the small Hermione standing nervously. "Follow me," she said shakily. "I don't want to let down my barriers. It'll take me a few hours to put them back up and-"

"Which way-" he paused. He was about to call her 'Miss Granger' again, but for some reason it seemed wrong. If you couldn't call someone by their first name, it seemed, then you had no business wandering around their mind. "Hermione."

She turned around, walking deeper through the simulated chaos she manufactured to fool the surface Legilimens. Eventually, they reached a glass wall, one that subtly reflected the memories and thoughts that Hermione had used to disguise the sheer, yet complete opaque, expanse. With a small frown, she lifted her hand and flicked two fingers apart. The wall parted, rippling like water, and she gestured him through the gap, following behind him.

Hermione led him to her safe vault, opening it with a thought as she explained it to him. "This may be important. I'm putting it in my level three protection." She opened a door in the safe, pausing with her hand on the handle. "This may be disorienting."

He finally did scowl. "Let's go." She opened the door, letting him through first.

It was disorienting, he realized when his stomach rolled in protest. He was looking through another person's eyes, holding a sweaty teenage boy in his thin arms. It was as if he was totally immersed in her, as if Severus Snape had, in some strange twist of fate or magic, become Hermione Granger. The weight of her hair was holding her head up and back, her arms were goose bumped from the cold, and with a flash of his own comforting revulsion, he realized he was  _ petting _ the back of Harry Potter's hair.

Hermione was next to him, sharing the memory space. "It's in a second or two," she told him, and it was so  _ strange _ because he was her and she was her and there was another Hermione…

He swallowed in his mind, and waited. Soon enough, Potter looked up and his (Lily's) green eyes met Hermione's.

The drop into Potter's mind was like falling in a dream. It was a rush, a sense of weightlessness and soaring and just dropping without any control. If he had been in his own body, he might have retched. Only the fact that he could still feel Hermione's chin in his hand, hear the night sounds of the old house, and smell the faint scent of her shampoo kept him grounded, and yet still ungrounded at the same time… But none of that mattered because now he was in Potter's mind.

The dream started out calmly. He was walking through a room, ignorant of what was going on beyond his line of sight, and stopping in front of a door. Severus could have gnashed his teeth in frustration- because the ignorant boy refused to pay any attention to his surroundings, to the two Legilimens the room was nothing but a foggy haze. For a moment, it seemed that the dream would end there- but with a sudden shift, he and Hermione were back in the graveyard.

Severus/Hermione/Harry was bound against a smooth gravestone, watching as Hermione was pulled into the half-circle of Death Eaters, standing tall and glaring at them all with dignity. All three minds winced in horror as Voldemort trained his wand on the witch, sending her to the ground, writhing in pain.

The dream fast-forwarded, and Hermione wheeling away from an attacker, lashing out with her knives, and then she was running to Harry, eyes wide and frightened until…

"Avada Kedavra," hissed the Dark Lord, his wand almost carelessly pointed in Hermione's direction. Harry watched in horror as she fell, life going out of her beautiful, beautiful eyes until they were dull and still.

With a thrust, Severus found himself back in the room in Grimmauld Place. His hand was holding the warm angle of her chin, his feet were firmly planted on the floor, and the utter terror of the stolen dream was fleeing.

Hermione slowly brought her hand up to his wrist, bringing it down slowly to release her head. She rolled her head quickly, working out the kinks in her neck. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," he snapped, stalking over to the bed and sitting down before he fell down. "Are you?"  _ Was that what it was like? Did she really fight like that? She looked like a wounded lioness, all rage and fury and the desperate urge to protect what was most dear to her. And then… no bloody wonder Potter can't sleep at night if that's what roams through that hollow watermelon he calls a head. _

"No," she replied truthfully, swaying a bit. "I think I need to sit down."

He gestured sharply to the space near the foot of the bed. "Then sit down!" She grinned at him sheepishly as she did as he said.

They sat quietly, recovering.  _ This is really something else, _ Hermione mused.  _ My mind is dizzy and nauseous, but my actual body is fine. _ Hermione was the first to break the silence. "What did you think?"

"The first dream, the one the nightmare interrupted, was not natural." His voice was harsh. "It seemed like the Dark Lord's manipulative mind magic to me."

Hermione looked at him, a hidden fear in her eyes that he could barely detect. "He's in Harry's mind?"

"Not exactly," Severus said, a small frown wrinkling the skin above the bridge of his impressive nose. "He's sending dreams through their link. They would need eye contact to fully possess the other."  _ And then all hell would break loose. The Dark Lord in Harry Potter's mind… or Harry Potter in the Dark Lord's. They'd go mad. It could be a plausible idea if Potter wasn't so goddamn weak. _

"Go to bed," he said abruptly, rising. "I need to inform the Headmaster. You should rest." She yawned, as if to verify his statement.

She stood slowly, but stumbled on her way to the door. He saw her falling, reaching out quickly to grab her arm and steady her. "Sorry," she mumbled. "That took more out of me than I thought it would."

"It's no problem," Severus replied smoothly, feeling a strange urge to draw her into his chest, to feel her pressed against him. He shied from it- it had been years since he had hugged or been hugged. Ugh. He hated that word- hugged. But it had been years since he had held another body to his own. He was closed off from other people- in fact, the most contact he had with another person was pretty much localized to the girl he was steadying. He remembered the night, only weeks ago, when he had carried her to her room. The warm weight of her body, her supple skin and even her pointy elbows.

He blinked, turning his thoughts to what she was saying. "I'm alright, now. Just a bit dizzy still." He looked down, realizing he still had a harsh grip on her upper arm. He let go abruptly, turning away.

"Stay here," he said, in a voice that was half an order and half a tentative request. "Your room is down a few floors and if you fall down the stairs, it will be months before I can have a proper sparring match."

She looked past the selfish Slytherin remark, and into the caring side of Severus Snape that he hid as much as possible. "Thank you," she said, yawning again, and falling into his bed. She gave him a sleepy smile, then burrowed under the covers.

He stalked out of the room. Dumbledore would want to know what his precious savior had dreamt. He would sleep at Spinner's End. It would be better to Floo directly to the Headmaster's office, though. Even from Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange was becoming more of a pain. Her lackeys thought that by taking orders from the one the Dark Lord deemed most loyal, they too would earn his favor. Fools.

By sending her orders out of Azkaban through her sister, who no one could blame for visiting (never mind that Bellatrix was a madwoman and killer and Andromeda had married a Muggle and  _ still _ Bella was the one Narcissa chose to see) Bellatrix Lestrange was becoming a thorn in Severus' side. He would have to be careful.

* * *

_ Dear Ms. Skeeter, _

_ Hello. You don't know who I am, and it is going to stay that way. You see, you've been buzzing around too many people I care about lately. And this will put a stop to that. _

_ To keep this short: I know you are an unregistered Animagus. You have been an unregistered Animagus since December 1987. I have proof. _

_ In return for me keeping this knowledge from the powerful people you've managed to enrage with your lurid articles, myself included, I have three requests. _

_ The first- you will remain an unregistered Animagus. You've managed to keep this secret hidden from the authorities so far- this should be a small matter to keep it that way. _

_ Second, you will continue your eavesdropping on powerful people. You may even continue to report what you find in your highly unethical and morally coloured way- as long as I screen it first. Maybe give it a bit of an edit, hmm? Leave all the information you think might be important to either Hogwarts, the Ministry, or anyone opposing Dumbledore. Write the pure facts- none of your elaboration, Ms. Skeeter- in the accompanying diary. I have a matching one. My ear will be to the ground as well- if you try to dupe me, you will regret it. I owe you a day of reckoning and I will not be at all displeased if that comes sooner rather than later. _

_ Third- For my sake and yours, stop writing that drivel about Harry Potter. Think about it, you stupid woman. The Dark Lord has been defeated by this boy four times. The Dark Lord. Defeated. Four times. By a boy. Must be a pretty powerful boy, no? And how do you think the Dark Lord is reacting to everyone thinking that Harry Potter is a silly little nitwit? Image is everything, Skeeter. If Harry Potter is mad and senseless, and he can still defeat the Dark Lord, what does that say about the Dark Lord? If you aren't careful, he'll make an example out of you. And as much as I would enjoy seeing that, for the moment you are put to better use alive. _

_ Follow my instructions to the letter. We wouldn't want the wrong people hearing the wrong things, would we? And if I so much hear a buzzing near me, I will give no warning before I squish the intruding little insect. _

Severus looked up from the letter, raising an eyebrow at the impatient girl waiting for his critique. "I'm impressed."  _ Bloody hell, she can blackmail. I like it. She should have been a Slytherin.  _ "But you know that if Skeeter stops writing about Potter,  _ The Daily Prophet _ will find someone else who will."

She beamed at him, and he gave her a crooked smirk in return. Not quite a smile, but the best he could do. "All the better for us when the Dark Lord shows himself and all the journalists writing about Harry are proven wrong. Skeeter, on the other hand, will still have some credibility," she explained excitedly, taking back the letter and looking at it with a distinctly critical gaze. He imagined it was the same look she gave every piece of homework before she turned it in.

"Don't sign it," he said, waving one elegant hand in what could have been an irritated gesture. "Leave her wondering. How do you plan to give this to her?"  _ This will involve yours truly in some way. Unless I can weasel out of it? I doubt she'll let me, but… it's worth considering. _

"I want to leave it in an unmarked package in her flat," Hermione answered promptly. "Which is why I need you to take me on a field trip to London." When he scowled at her, she smirked at him. "Come on. It can't be that bad!"

His scowl deepened. "Not only do I have to be an accomplice to blackmail, I have to Side-Along Apparate too?" If she hadn't been around him for so long, she would have thought he was genuinely annoyed.

She grinned at him cheekily. "But you'll have the benefit of my charming company!" She patted his arm, his grimace twisting his face deeper than she would have thought was possible. "It's for the good of… well, us. Imagine what you could do with the leverage she could give you?"

Severus heaved a great sigh. "Fine, you insufferable chit of a girl. But if insist on smiling the entire time, not only will I return alone, but they will  _ never _ find your body."  _ Death threats. Death threats always work in the face of conceding to- well, in the face of conceding to anything. Except perhaps to Hermione. _

"I knew you'd come around," Hermione said, laughing. "Thanks, Severus."  _ Well, you don't have to take it for bloody granted, girl. I'm a busy man. I have work to do! _

A glare was the only answer she received. "Shoo. I have important work to do. And you have a book to read." His gaze softened though, a moment later. "You'll be by for tea at two?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Hermione said, still smiling brightly. "I'll finish reading it tonight, then on the turnabout I'll pop in for tea. See you in…" she checked her watch. "It's ten now, so I turn back in fourteen hours, sleep for seven or so, practice something- would you stop by the Safe House around, say, nine?"

_ No. I have to brew all the god-damn potions the rest of the Order are too damn stupid to make and then I need to do hide these memories from the Dark Lord and after that, I need to go and intimidate some of my less forthcoming informants and perhaps at least consider finding a way to influence Potter's trial.  _ "No problem," Severus said smoothly. "As long as the Dark Lord doesn't call."

Hermione's smile seemed stilted. "Let's hope the bloody wanker decides to take a day off." The expression of complete shock on his face was hilarious. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Harry and Ron are rubbing off on me. Anyway, I'll turn back around midnight again, then another fourteen hours, so I'll see you somewhere between twenty-three hours for me, four for you." With a cheery wave, she left his room in Grimmauld Place.

He sighed again, shaking his head. What was he going to do with the ball of energy and enthusiasm that was Hermione Granger? One minute she was lunging for his throat, the next she was mocking him and he didn't seem to mind at all. Anyone else, he would have eviscerated with his scalpel of a tongue. But she just walked all over him. He was getting soft. Too soft.

* * *

Four hours later, his door opened and closed by itself. Well, opened a bit more than the crack he had left in it mere minutes before, then slammed shut as if a giant gust of wind had pushed it. A moment later, Hermione appeared slightly to the left of where his eyes had been focusing.

"You missed," she said, but instead of her normal enthusiasm, her voice was weary. Tired. Careworn.

Immediately, he rose from his desk, stalking over to where she stood. "What's wrong?"  _ The Dark Lord came calling. Someone important is hurt. She's hurt.  _ She was looking down, picking at the sleeve of her shirt. Grimmauld Place was shockingly damp and chilly, even when London wasn't damp and dreary.

She didn't look him in the eye, shaking her head. "Nothing. I-"

"Do not lie to me, Hermione," Snape said, cutting her off. "What. Happened." He used his voice to his advantage- he knew the effect it had on most people.

"Nothing," she insisted, meeting his eyes. "Honestly. Just a few more bad dreams." He raised one eyebrow, a silent demand for more information. "Sometimes… I dream that I couldn't get away. That they killed Harry and I was left to-" She broke off, looking into the air at a point somewhere around his desk. "It's nothing."

He crossed the room to her, deliberately grasping her shoulders. "Hermione. Dreams are important- they are mirrors of our subconscious, reflecting and distorting what we know to be true or false. They reveal your deepest fears, your hidden secrets, the truths you try the hardest to deny. But they also feed off of the imagination, taunting and twisting fear into terror. You can be rid of the dreams."

She breathed deeply, and suddenly he realized that he could feel the sharp angles of her collarbones under his thumbs, and the tense muscles of her back and neck beneath his palms. She was wearing a simple pair of jeans and the long-sleeved shirt- blue. He liked blue. But she was talking, and he needed to turn his attention to the words she was saying. "I think this one was caused by Harry's dreams, actually. It's quite disconcerting to see yourself murdered, after all."

"Quite," Severus murmured, letting go of her shoulders. "Does the Dark Lord call me?" It was wrong, he supposed, to gain this knowledge of the immediate future. But at least he could put it to good use.

"Nope," she said, smiling broadly at him, a quick change from her previous discontent. "I had a good sparring match a while ago.  _ You  _ got an arse whooping, m'dear," she called cheekily over her shoulder as she neared his little stove and kettle. "Which blend?"

She had called him 'm'dear.' He scowled. "The one in the green jar," he snapped. "Did you bring my book?" She didn't look at him, concentrating on making the tea.

But she still nodded, jerking her head toward her book bag. "It's in there," answered Hermione. "I have a few others inside too, so just rummage around a bit until you find it."

He huffed impatiently, rising with a small groan to grab her bag. "I'm getting too old to be bending down," grumbled the Potions Master. Even so, he snatched up her bag with no problems, until it came to lifting the faded and worn leather satchel. "What do you  _ have _ in here?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in his customary expression of shock. "Rocks, perhaps? Maybe a few children and a goat? Half your weight in sapphires?"

Her peals of laughter made him fight the urge to smirk. "You're being ridiculous, Severus. It's not that heavy."

"Yes, it is," Severus disagreed in a rolling drawl. "You're a witch. Haven't you heard of feather-light spells?" He hefted the bag onto his small bed and spilled its contents onto the worn duvet. More tumbled out of the bag then he would have deemed possible: at least five or six books, a change of clothing, a compact, a larger mirror, a small set of lock picks, another set of clothing, two cloth bags marked 'Harry' and 'Ron' and another pouch which Severus knew held dehydrated food.

In short, everything she would need to make an escape with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

He recalled rising and moving swiftly to where she stood, anger clouding his judgment, but it must have been faster than he realized. When he grabbed her arms, turning her to face him, Hermione squeaked and tried to fight, but his grasp on her arms was too tight. She was too weak in a fight of strength. Severus may have been getting older, but his arms were still unbelievably strong. When she tried to break his hold, something in her wrist popped and her hand spasmed, spilling the near-boiling water from the two mugs she was holding onto her arm, chest, and stomach.

Horrified, Severus released her and stepped back, drawing his wand to help as she made a muffled keen of pain, head bowed. Some part of his mind noted that instead of tossing her head back in pain, she curled inward.

"Hermione-" he started, previous anger forgotten, but his words tangled in his mouth like abandoned needlework- unusable, a thousand different combinations but none that would make sense. "I-"

She shook her head quickly, the pain showing on her face gradually disappearing until she looked only slightly strained. "You are a bloody fucking wanker, Severus Snape," she rasped, and he could hear the repressed pain in her voice. "Now go get your burn salve and get me on that bed."

He stood there in shock for a moment until she glared at him, a hint of her anger simmering under the surface of her usually placid eyes. "Now!"

Tripping over his feet, Severus rushed to do as she said. He bent down and picked her up clumsily, wincing when she moaned quietly in pain. Sweat was breaking out on her brow, matting the curls that lay limp on her forehead. Cursing at himself mentally, he lay her down gently on the bed, drawing his wand to cast a quick Numbing Spell.

Once the spell took hold, she sighed gratefully. "Thank you, Severus. The burn salve, please?" Immediately, he turned on the heel of his boot to get what she requested.

"Here," he snapped, tension and worry making his voice tight. "You know how to apply it, I presume?"

Hermione raised one eyebrow at him, subconsciously copying his own mannerism. "Hey. I'm the one lying in bed looking like one parent was an unlucky lobster."

She met his gaze squarely, clearly telling him to get over himself. He glared back stonily, refusing to relent until she raised one eyebrow. He relented. "Sorry," he muttered. "I-"

"No," replied Hermione, cutting him off by raising a hand. "Right now, you are going to mend my wrist, then help me apply this salve."

He noticed that she had waited until after his apology to protest. He scowled, moving closer to sit on the bed and taking the burnt wrist in his large hands as gently as he could. The skin was red and blistering, and even with the Numbing Spell Hermione's breathing quickened perceptibly. "This is going to hurt," he murmured, looking down at her.

She laughed huskily. "No, really?" she said sarcastically. "I thought you were going to massage my aching muscles from where you got me earlier."

An image flashed into his head- his hands on her lightly tanned skin, rubbing slow circles into the muscles of her thighs, or his thumbs digging into the knotted muscles around her neck and shoulders. Her bare neck and shoulders. He remembered the way she moaned lightly when rubbing her own neck-

He swallowed harshly. "Impertinent chit," he muttered, but his heart wasn't in it. "Hold still." He tapped her wrist firmly with his wand, nodded when he heard the snap and pop of it returning to its proper position. Her face tightened, but she didn't wince.

"Not too bad," she judged, eyeing her wrist. "Now I need to get that burn salve on. What would be the best way to do that?"

He held out the jar to her. "Take off your shirt and apply it to the burnt areas," he instructed. "Rub it in, or it won't work."

Hermione nodded shakily- just the thought of touching the burnt skin made her feel like she would pass out. "Alright."

"I'll wait on the other side of the room," he said tersely, drawing his wand, and swishing it gently, conjuring a partition. "There."

He was just a shadow on the other side. Hermione gritted her teeth, and went to work. She vanished her shirt, then carefully pulled back her bra with a sigh of relief- the added protection of the fabric had mostly spared her breasts. Using her left hand, she scooped up a middling amount of the strange mixture- an oily cross between a gel and a paste. She started on her right hand- pressing the salve to the burn and rubbing cautiously. "Ahh-" she whimpered as the burn intensified. "Ah-"

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" the Potions Master asked, a hint of worrying tainting his usually silky smooth voice.

Hermione took in a wavering breath. "It just hurts more than I thought it would." She scooped up another handful, and spread it on her burnt flesh. "Ahh!" she keened, agony etched in her face and weaving through her voice.

"Are you proper, Miss Granger?" Severus asked stiffly, debating the possibilities.

Hermione frowned, then put her bra back on. "Relatively," she responded warily. "What-" He vanished the partition. "Oh." She felt the urge to cover herself further, her hand even going so far as to twitch toward the bedsheets.

"Oh, indeed," he sneered, grabbing the jar from her. "You can either brace yourself or I can Stun you."

She considered for a moment, before sighing and bracing herself. "Go ahead." As he started to apply the salve, she bit back a groan and leaned into his pillows, turning her head into them. They smelled like him- that smoky herbal scent that clung to his robes, a hint of old books, and the clean musk of man. She breathed deeply as he moved up her arm, concentrating on the pillow and on her breathing as his gentle, but firm hands rubbed the salve into her poor skin.

As soon as he saw her eyes close, Severus allowed his eyes to roam over her body. He had seen the outline of it before- he didn't know why her shape was affecting him so. Hips, slightly rounded stomach, faint indentations where her ribs were, and then… her breasts. Cupped in her bra, they seemed so innocent. And yet, they were doing crazy things to his head and even worse things to his-

No. He was a Master Occlumens- he should- he could- control himself. He wrenched his gaze up, from those beautiful swells to the reddened skin that covered that elegant collarbone he had noticed so many times before. His hand slowed as he reached them- going over her shoulder as she made harsh little sounds and screwed her eyes shut. He could touch them. He was going to touch them. He wasn't going to make a fool of himself. And then his fingers were gliding over those little bones, slick with the salve. She burrowed further into the pillow, and some part of him winced in sympathy with her. He didn't like causing her pain.

And it was then Severus Snape realized he really and truly cared for Hermione Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 10.
> 
> I love seeing our two heroes plot and plan... and circle around each other, of course.
> 
> Don't forget to comment and leave kudos!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This chapter was once again beta'd by Sorasrardust! Thank you so much for looking over this chapter as well!
> 
> I hope everyone's had a better week than me - I've been hit over the head with the flu. 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

**_Chapter 11_ **

Two hours later, the salve had finished its work and the skin that had been burned hours earlier was smooth and unscarred, if still a bit pink and tender. Hermione had appropriated one of Severus' shirts (he had protested, although not for very long) and remained on the bed as the two of them talked.

"So why did you grab me?" Hermione asked after a somewhat awkward pause in the conversation. At his expression, she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Maybe you can ignore the giant pink elephant in the room, but I can't."

He shook his head at her. "Giant pink elephant?" He had heard the term before- he wasn't totally ignorant of the Muggle world- but he would have never have expected to hear it in Hermione's still slightly raspy voice. Or his, for that matter.

Hermione nodded seriously, curls falling into her face before she brushed them away impatiently. "That we are not ignoring. Why did you grab me?"

He scowled at the bag that had been kicked to the base of the bed. "When were you planning to tell me that you, Weasley and Potter were leaving?"

As usual, she caught on fast. "The clothes and the food?" she asked quietly. "That was what this was all about?"

"Yes," he snapped, dark eyes flashing up to meet hers. "Care to explain?"

She huffed, leaning back without breaking their gaze. "Yes, actually. Contingency plan. Moody suggested it, actually. Have food and clothes ready to go just in case I need to grab Harry and go. Harry would probably insist on my grabbing Ron as well, so I packed for him too. With all the Death Eaters hanging around the house, things could go wrong quickly."

His face darkened when she mentioned Death Eaters, and she rolled her eyes again and snapped at him. "Come off it, Severus. You know I don't consider you a Death Eater."

"I am one, though," Severus replied, voice dangerously soft. "I am a Death Eater."

Hermione had kept his gaze. "And I don't know why you joined him, or why you decided to turn your back on him. But I do know that you are a good man who has done his best to turn me from a normal girl into one who can help us win this war by whatever means necessary."

"And you don't think I regret that?" Severus asked, looking away, voice hollow. "When is the last time you saw your parents, Hermione?" For some reason, it seemed normal to say her given name now. She usually smiled every time he did it- no matter how serious the conversation was.

But now she just glared at him fiercely. It was at times like these he saw the wild in her, the Hermione that was tightly bound under rules and social acceptability and the desire to be normal, with a thin veneer of placidity on top. And that Hermione came out when they were fighting, glorious and fearless. "Do you think I care? You've seen most of my mind and childhood- since when would I have appreciated seeing them?"

It was true- Hermione's relationship with her parents was more than strange considering what he would have expected years earlier. Hermione had figured it out at a young age- it didn't take a genius. Her mother had been on a fast track to a fantastic surgical residency, when she had met Matthew Granger. He had gotten her pregnant, her parents had cut off the money for medical school and demanded she marry. Helen Granger married Matt, had the child, and gone to school for dentistry. She wasn't a complete monster- she did love Hermione- but she also deeply resented her child and her husband for ending her career. Matt Granger wasn't too happy either- he didn't want a child and he hadn't wanted to marry Helen. But things had turned out the way they did, and they ended up staying together out of familiarity more than anything else.

Her parents loved her, of course- it was just they weren't there very often and they didn't show love frequently. They had figured early on that Hermione was more than capable of amusing herself and assuaged their guilt by telling themselves that she was happier with her books than with them.

Hermione grew up alone. Not neglected- alone. She had all the books she could wish for at the local library and respectable clothes and more trouble than she would have wanted from her classmates and teachers. So she was brilliant and lonely growing up, mocked by her classmates then feared when bad things happened to those who hurt her.

Her parents were half terrified of the things their daughter was capable of- one memorable occasion involved a bookshelf crashing to the floor breaking several little glass figurines displayed there. Another happened around the time Hermione was eight. They were at a friend's wedding, and an older boy was bothering Hermione. She accidentally broke the wrist that he was using to pull her hair and shove her- without touching him. Her parents had known what happened- from then on, they didn't ignore her, exactly, but merely existed around her, doing their best not to anger their daughter.

Severus was grateful she had befriended Potter and Weasley after the incident with the troll- if circumstances had been any different, Hermione Granger might have been the next Voldemort- or worse, the next Bellatrix Lestrange.

So when Hermione asked him if she would care about seeing her parents again, Severus shrugged. "I suppose not," he said, keeping his voice steady. "But as much as you dislike them, do you want to see them die?"

"No, of course not," Hermione said, startled. "They're my parents."

"Alright then," Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to relieve the tension. "We need to find a way to get them out of the country and safe. You've certainly attracted the Dark Lord's attention and he knows you're Muggleborn. The moment you are brought to his attention again, he'll send someone after your parents."

To her credit, Hermione didn't lose much color. Then again, she didn't have that much to lose after the earlier incident. "I thought about that. They wouldn't just leave though, no matter what I say. What if we erased their memories? Then we could make them believe they're different people, people who've always wanted to move- move to Australia or something."

He considered the idea for a while. "That could work," he finally admitted, albeit a tad grudgingly. "It would give you a chance to explore your Legilimency skills a bit more- you would have to erase every memory they have of you."

"And then we should set the house on fire," Hermione said, nodding once. "My grandparents are all dead and my parents had no siblings. If the house burns down, it takes care of problems with their friends." There was no audible change in her voice, but Severus could tell that she was forcibly holding back tears. But when she looked up, her eyes were clear and her face more serene than troubled.

Severus sighed, cracking his knuckles. "Then it is decided," he announced. "When we go to London to take care of Skeeter, we'll take care of your parents."

Hermione smiled tightly. "Sounds fine to me."

* * *

"I am going to kill someone," Severus hissed, rage visible in every line of his body. He had lined up targets and charmed them to repair themselves as soon as they were broken. As deadly and fast as Severus was, they weren't repairing themselves quickly enough for his anger.

Hermione was leaning against the wall of the practice room in Safe House Three, watching him with steady eyes. "What happened?" she asked, an undercurrent of worry running through her voice.

He destroyed a few more targets, then turned to face her, nostrils flaring. "What  _ happened _ ," he drawled. "What happened was a horrid little man by the code name of Telemachus managed to get himself and three other of my informants killed."

She laid a hand on his arm, half expecting him to flinch away from it. "Severus. Was anyone else compromised?"

"No," he snapped. "But-"

"Then stop worrying about it," she ordered, meeting his dark eyes with her own. "It wasn't your fault that someone was stupid. But if you let it get to you, if you let if create an anger that turns into a weakness, it really does become a problem. Be angry, if you need to be, but control yourself as well."

If anyone else had told him that, he would have scoffed or ripped them to shreds with words. But it was Hermione- and she wasn’t condescending or offering false sympathy. She was speaking with quiet authority, genuine sorrow for the loss of life, and hope for him. He exhaled slowly through his nose.

"Spar with me?" she asked. "Those targets aren't doing either of us any good. And I haven't had a good fight for a while."

Normally he would have said no- it wasn't a good idea for him to fight when he was angry. But for some reason he considered saying yes- his anger was waning and his attention was focusing on the slight woman before him.

"I'm not going to pull any punches," he warned her, ignoring her smile. "You might want to cast a few padding charms."

* * *

"It's too bloody cold to be the middle of summer," Severus grumbled as Hermione released his arm in the rather shady alley they had Apparated to. "Even for London." He was dressed all in black- not his normal white button-down and black slacks. Instead of the white shirt, he had a warm turtleneck. Hermione had noticed that he hated having very much skin showing in public- usually it was just his face and hands.

Hermione shivered, taking her wand and casting discrete warming charms on herself and Severus. "Harry said he thinks it's the Dementors. They're altering the weather."

In response, Severus shook his head once sharply. "Use your eyes, girl. Do you see any Dementors here?" His tone dripped sarcasm.

She shot him an annoyed glance. " _ Harry _ said. I'm not stupid, Severus. The Wizarding World would be in riot if there were Dementors around every corner in London, and they need to be in close proximity to affect temperatures. It would take more Dementors than people in London to achieve these temperatures. If I thought a human being could be insanely powerful enough to maintain it over the entire British Isles, then I would say that it's a high-powered dampening spell meeting an abnormally dreary London summer."

"Not quite," Severus drawled, smirking. "Close, though. Yes, it is a high powered dampening spell, and yes, it looked like London would have been a dreary mess without all the spells. But, contrary to what you proposed, the Dark Lord is not an 'insanely powerful' wizard. He is behind it, but others are powering it." His gaze turned serious, daring her to come up with the answer.

She turned the problem over in her head for a few moments, before her head shot up and her eyes met Severus'. Her eyes were furious, and she had gone pale with rage. "Don't tell me he can suck your magic through that awful mark."

His hands met in a sharp clapping sound as he brought them together twice, sarcastically. "Correct," said the Professor, in his usual sardonic manner. "The ritual in which the Death Eaters gain their Dark Marks links their power to the Dark Lord's. They are linked to him until death do them part…" He let his voice trail off. "I was lucky. The first Dark Mark drained too much- he refined it, but over much. Mine does not draw so much power, nor does it link his life to mine. He was dissatisfied, however, and the third vision is the one he uses now."

Hermione's gaze calmed somewhat. "So you're telling me that if he dies, you're safe?"

Severus nodded after a split second of hesitation. "Yes- me and most of my generation. But rest assured that if we take him down, we take most of them down as well."  _ That matters to her? _

The smile that spread across her lips would have made the blood of a lesser man run cold. "Good. And after we stop at Skeeter's, we go to my parents."

They exited the alley, Hermione taking three strides for Severus' one. It didn't take him long to notice, and he slowed, sighing dramatically. "Here," he snapped, offering her his arm. "I don't want to be halfway to London and realize that you're wandering somewhere else."

Hermione slipped her arm through the crook his arm made and beamed up at him. "Thank you," she chirped. They continued walking, comfortably warm from the warming charm. "Have you heard anything about Umbridge? Harry saw her at his trial- said she's an ugly little toad."

Severus looked down at her, dark eyes distant. "No. The Hogwarts staff is to meet her in a week or two before the term begins. While we're in London, do you need anything from the shops?"

"As much as I'd like to stop by Flourish and Blotts," Hermione said with a sigh, "It's probably not wise. I can pick up some clothes at my house after we take care of my parents. Do you need to stop anywhere?"

There was a slight hesitation in his step, and he stopped for a moment and pulled her to the side of a large brick building. "I would like to stop at my family home," he said stiffly. "It's… unpleasant. I have been trying to find the time to do this for weeks and this would be a good opportunity."

"Of course, Severus," Hermione said, looking up at him. "Before or after my parents?"

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "After," was all he said, offering her his arm again as they continued through London. The normal tourists milled around with cameras, some very lost. Londoners moved around them with impatience, glancing at them with a haughtiness that comes with living in one of the greatest cities in the world.

Rita Skeeter's flat was in a modest part of London, not far from the Leaky Cauldron and the office of  _ The Daily Prophet _ . They stopped two buildings over, where Severus handed Hermione a vial of Polyjuice. The hair had already been added- the potion was a sort of murky blue color. Very unappealing, but she drank it anyway, downing it without a protest.

"Lovely," she rasped. The Potions Master had chosen well- the person Hermione was transforming into was about the same size and weight as her- only a bit pudgier in the general waistline area. Her long hair shortened to about shoulder length and she grew perhaps a fraction of an inch.

He nodded at her. "Random Muggle. Not important who- but Skeeter should not be able to track her."

Hermione nodded. "Right. Good. I'll see you in a bit then." With a quick wave, she was walking to the building, nodding to the doorman, and slipping right inside.

_ Great, _ Severus thought.  _ I'm playing lookout now. I feel like an unmarked Death Eater again. No. What Hermione's asking me to do is not like that. She's doing this for Potter. For Dumbledore. For us. _

* * *

The front lawn of Hermione's house was neatly kept, a slender white path leading to the house. It was around tea time- it took Dr. Granger almost a minute to answer the door.

"Hermione?" he asked, surprised. "I thought you were staying at your friend's house."

Brushing back her long hair, Hermione sighed. "I was, Dad. But I need to talk to you and Mum about something. Se- Professor Snape came to help me."

Frowning, her father let her and Severus through the door, leading them to the tea room. Hermione's mother was poised perfectly in her chair, sipping from a white china teacup. Hermione wanted to scream- sometimes the Grangers were ridiculously formal for no apparent reason. It was a weekend, so they had the day off from the practice. Instead of relaxing around the house, Dr. Granger was wearing pearls and a skirt while the other Dr Granger could have stepped in from a 'casual' dinner party.

"Hermione?" Helen Granger frowned at her daughter and her husband, setting down her tea and standing abruptly. "I thought you wouldn't be back until Christmas!" She looked both Hermione and Snape up and down, nose wrinkling at her daughter's jeans- there was no way she could fault the jacket, she had bought it for Hermione.

"I was. I thought I could stop by, though. It's okay, isn't it?" Hermione asked, tensing. There was no answer to why just talking to her mother put her on the defensive, but it did.

With a glance toward Snape, Hermione's mother nodded once sharply. "Of course, dear," she said with manufactured warmth. "Sit down. Take some tea."

Severus had to seriously restrain himself from sneering at the woman, but he sat down between Hermione and her father with a cup of tea. After the slightly stiff formalities were over with, he put his cup down and leaned forward.

"Dr and Dr Granger," he said, meeting both their eyes for a brief scan. Helen was dealing with the sense of unease that came from being around her daughter, and Matthew was wondering if this visit would mean postponing the trip to France. He finally gave in and sneered at them. "I am here because there is a grave danger in the Wizarding world."

The two dentists exchanged looks. "What kind of danger?" Matt asked warily. "Hermione's never said anything about it."

Snape could feel Hermione growing red next to him. "There never really seemed to be a good time to mention it," she tried weakly. "It's complicated, Dad."

"There is a wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort and he wishes to kill all wizards and witches with Muggle parents," Severus said bluntly. "Which includes your daughter. He also wants to kill Harry Potter, your daughter's best friend. In addition to that, Miss Granger and Mr Potter were attacked by him last year, and escaped. He wants them both very dead. Because they are currently in a very well protected place, he'll settle for killing the two of you."

Helen's mouth opened, then shut again. Matt took a deep breath, and shook his head. "We're withdrawing you from that school immediately," said the man, glaring at Snape. "There's still that boarding school we were looking at before that letter came."

"That will not work," Snape said smoothly. "You can take the Hogwarts away from the witch, but you can never take the magic away."

Hermione spoke next, voice quiet. "I refuse to leave Hogwarts. Or Harry."

"It's not your decision, young lady!" her mother snapped. "If there is a dangerous man trying to kill you, then you need to leave!" Helen's hand rose to her pearls, and she looked over at her husband. "You should call the other school now, Matt."

Hermione looked at her mother right in the eye. "I'm seventeen, Mum. I used a Time-Turner to take extra classes- so technically, I'm an adult in the Wizarding world. You have no say in what I do."

"Then why are you even here?" countered her mother angrily. "You can't say that you're an adult- you're barely fifteen and by our standards, magic or not, you are still our daughter and you have to listen! And what've you got to do with this?" she rounded on Snape. "You're a teacher at that bloody school!"

Snape glared at her. "I'm here to help Miss Granger with a dangerous and complicated piece of magic."

"I came here, Mum, because I needed you to understand what I'm going to do," said Hermione, voice still quiet. "If we win, I'll come back for you. I promise." She met Snape's eye, then turned back to her mother, ignoring the woman's questions. "Stupefy," she whispered, hearing Severus do the same on her other side.

Her parents fell back, unconscious.

Hermione felt the burning at the back of her eyes, the difficulty swallowing, the sensation behind her nose all telling her she was going to cry any moment. She jumped when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up, biting her lip to keep from crying.

"You told them why," Severus told her. His normally stern face had softened a fraction, which made Hermione feel even more like crying for some reason. "And you told them you would come back for them. You are protecting them. Saving their lives."

Hermione drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "But-" she said, hands flying to her face. "Severus-

He grasped her slender wrists and gently moved her hands away from her face. "I would not lie to you," he said slowly and deliberately, looking her in the eye. "If you need me to spell it out for you, I will. You are doing all that you can to protect those you love. Some might say it is ruthless, but sometimes you need to be ruthless to win a war. This is war, Hermione. And they can't handle it, but you can. The strong must protect the weak."

His velvety voice made her break down. To her complete surprise, she found herself with her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder and his neck, crying with high-pitched little sobs. She was clutching at the back of his turtleneck- it made her feel childish and that thought made her cry harder. Slowly, he brought his arms around her back and patted awkwardly.

As she inhaled in sharp short bursts, she slowly calmed down. His turtleneck smelled like him- wood smoke, parchment, and herbs, with something else underneath. It was comforting- and his arms around her made her feel something coiling in her belly, something she couldn't (wouldn't) name.

Finally, she drew away, wiping her eyes. "Sorry," she said hoarsely. "I- I'm sorry."

She couldn't read anything in his face. "Let us begin working," was all he said. "Gather what you want to keep. I'll start working on erasing their memories."

Her legs were a bit shaky when she stood, but she nodded to him stiffly and walked out of the room, winding through the halls of her childhood home to her bedroom. Its familiarity was enough to put a small smile on her face- the wooden floor and the light spilling in from the windows were sights she had seen nearly every day for almost twelve years. Her bed was neatly made, her bookshelves in order, her desk clear. The basket where her mother left the mail she received over the school year was empty save for one or two adverts and the light layer of dust on her shelves were the only signs that this room was rarely lived in.

She walked over to her bookcase, opening the small purse she had enchanted. Some books had stiff spines- but very few. Others were falling apart, the covers lovingly bound with tape. Some were no brainers for her bag- others she debated over for a moment or two before either adding it to the bag or leaving it on the shelf.

The small mementoes were easier- she only truly cared about a few. Her first Hogwarts letter, a picture of her, Ron and Harry, a wooden hippogriff that Hagrid had carved her, the wooden flute she had never given back to Harry, the mirror that Penelope Clearwater had been holding, and a few pieces of jewelry that she had accumulated over the years. Clothes were also simple- the things that fit her and weren't strange colors went into the bag, and the items that were too small or rather ghastly shades of orange didn't.

Hermione left the room with a sad smile, hand resting on the door frame for a moment before she closed the door.

She stopped in her parent's room to gather her birth certificate and other official papers, her passport and a few pieces of jewelry- family heirlooms that came from both her mother's side and her fathers. Her parent's official papers- she would give them back after the war. A picture of her and her parents, and she was done packing for herself.

Next, she readied two suitcases each for them, using her wand to pack swiftly and efficiently. The last thing to do was open the small safe under their bed- it contained enough cash to get them to Australia. Right before they went to the house, Hermione had transferred all their funds into several accounts before finally distributing them in one owned by Monica and Wendell Wilkins. The credit cards and passwords were already in a purse for Monica and wallet for Wendell. Everything was ready to go, and the house could be torched.

Hermione descended the stairs, suitcases floating behind her in a perfect line. Severus was bent over her father, looking into his eyes in an almost sensual way. It was intimate, what he was doing- going through every memory Matthew Granger had and changing his name, the details of his life, and erasing the fact that he had ever had a daughter.

She sat down on the sofa to wait, watching her father and the man who was helping her. All traces that she had ever cried on his shoulder had been Vanished from his now impeccable black turtleneck. His hands were on her father's temples, his eyes were focused on Matthew Granger.

For her, she had known this strange man for almost six years. Harry had hated him on sight- she had simply been curious. To the students at Hogwarts, Professor Snape was a man to be feared- at least when they were in his presence. In the privacy of their Common Rooms, or anywhere out of earshot, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike ridiculed him, insulted him, mocked him. No one thanked him for what was probably the best Potions education in Europe- Severus Snape was a Potions Master, the only one in Great Britain and one of the twenty in the world. Eight in the Americas, one in France, one in Russia, four in China, one each for Japan and Korea, three in Africa, and one in Australia. And he was  _ teaching. _ Not giving selective apprenticeships, but teaching first years how to make burn potions.

And instead of being incredibly grateful and treating him like the genius he was, they moaned about how he wouldn't let them goof off in class- never mind that goofing off in Potions could be dangerous at the best of times and fatal at others. They took in his hooked nose (which wasn't any worse than Dumbledore's to be honest) and sallow skin, his acerbic sarcasm (yes, his social skills could do with improvements, but he was extraordinarily intelligent and most of the students at Hogwarts were egotistical idiots) and his greasy black hair (really! How would their hair look after spending day after day in the smoke and fumes of various poorly made student potions? It was really quite nice during the summer) and most of all his eyes- those eyes that looked into them and  _ knew _ what they had done.

Personally, his eyes mesmerized her. So many called them black- named them so as a testament to the color of his soul. But they were grey- dark, dark grey, but grey nonetheless. Perhaps it was a comment on the soul after all- darkness with hope for redemption. His redemption. They would never know what he did for them.

They didn't see him when he returned from a Death Eaters Meeting. When his mind was clouded with pain and what he had done, even Severus Snape didn't notice a Disillusioned girl hidden behind the wall as he climbed the stairs. Sometimes he turned around, eyes searching for his watcher before he continued up. Sometimes he was merely tired- other times he walked with the slow pace of a man with broken ribs or spell injuries.

At other times, though, Professor Snape always moved with a swift, predatory grace. It was a commonly noticed fact at Hogwarts that his robes billowed, even without wind. Severus was really exceptionally graceful- everything about him. His voice- silky and dangerous or rough and absolutely terrifying. His hands, when he made potions. Hermione loved watching his hands on the rare occasions that he demonstrated for the class. He could chop perfectly even pieces with one hand, stir with the other, and still lecture. Even his name was sinuous- Severus. Severus Snape.

No one saw what a glorious, glorious man he was. For some reason, he risked his life to protect them every day. Every time he went in front of the Dark Lord, he was dancing with danger. One slip in his concentration, and the Dark Lord would know all and his life would end after days- or weeks- of torture. And no one knew. No one got to see that softer side of him, the side that was snarky but kind, the side that allowed an apology to shine out of those eyes when he couldn't say anything. The side that showed when he laughed, or that shone in his eyes when the two of them debated any number of subjects. The side that offered her books and conversation and- most surprisingly, a shoulder to cry on.

The side that came with her to rearrange her parent's memories so that they would be safe.

And the side that died a little every time he came back from carrying out the will of the Dark Lord with blood on his hands.

"Hermione," she heard, and suddenly she realized that Severus had finished and was looking at her. He had noticed her staring at him.

She ducked her head quickly, the hot flash of embarrassment coming once again. She fought the urge to apologize. "Yes?"

"I'm finished," he said. "You should go through their minds to make sure I haven't missed anything. If it wouldn't-"

"I'll be fine," Hermione said shortly. Quickly, she bent over her mother, and then her father. It made her more than slightly uneasy to see how easily she disappeared from their lives. With any other set of parents, a magical working like this would have taken several hours and more than one Master Legilimens.

She swallowed hard and stood up again. "I'm- you did a good job."

He nodded curtly. "Let's wake them up and let them leave for the airport. I implanted the suggestion in their mind- they'll leave as soon as they awake." Perhaps his eyes held a question- but he didn't ask and she wouldn't volunteer an answer.

She looked around the room quickly, memories swirling. "Okay," she said, closing her eyes for a moment then opening them again. "Why don't we go to your house then come back here to burn the place down?"

Severus nodded, then stalked to the door. He held it open for her- something she wasn't quite used to. She knew he always did it for her- it was just they didn't usually go through doors. She hesitated before stepping through.

"Go on," he murmured, then put a hand on the small of her back to guide her through. "They'll wake soon, Hermione."

She could feel the imprint of his hand long after he let it drop, closing the door firmly behind him. They walked some way down the street, Hermione taking his offered arm without a word. It felt… strange. But right- strange, but right. He was taller than her, much taller, but looping her arm through his was comfortable. That fact that he did it at all was a testament not to his 'breeding' but to the society in which he found himself now. Wizards in the highest strata of pureblood society were supposed to be gentlemen, and most were until the moment they slid a white mask over their face.

When they reached a reasonable point to Apparate, they didn't separate, but he stopped to look down at her. "If you wish you may stay here. I won't be long."

"No," Hermione replied, looking up at him. "I want to see your house. And if it's anything like your rooms at Headquarters, there's bound to be some interesting books there."

He gave her a small sneer; she didn't take it personally, that was just Severus being Severus. "As you wish," he drawled. With a sharp turn on his heel, the two of them were being sucked through a narrow tube, compressed and stretched at the same time, before being spat out on the other end.

The neighborhood they arrived in was a dank mill town- Cokeworth, according to Severus. Hermione expected him to release her now that they were away from the hustle of London. Instead, he kept her close. Hermione didn't know if he realized he was doing it, but she followed even more closely than before. The river flowed sluggishly, an unpleasant smell rising from it. A chimney rose in the distance- it was from a mill that was as old and desolate as the town itself. A line of old rusty railing separated the narrow cobbled street they were on from the refuse-strewn bank of the river.

On the other side of the river, a bit further away, was a park. On the other side of the park were much nicer homes than the ones Severus and Hermione were currently passing. Those had peeling paint or broken front doors, windows that had faded curtains and small gardens that were overgrown with weeds or brown from drought.

Hermione kept quiet, reserving judgment for another time. Her eyes took in everything- every derelict siding and sagging porch. Soon they turned down a hidden alley onto an almost identical street- although these houses were slightly nicer. Even so, in the late afternoon light, Hermione could see that some of the street lamps were broken and the old brick houses looked deserted. The sign of the street read 'Spinner's End.'

Severus seemed fixed on a point in the distance- eventually, she focused on it as well and was therefore unsurprised when they stopped at a bleak house- one of the only on the street with unbroken windows. It was easily the best house in the neighborhood- and the scariest, if Hermione's opinion was taken into account.

Severus released her to dig in his robes for a key, withdrawing it and slipping it into the keyhole without a word. The door was stiff- it took a bit of force to open with a groaning sound from the wood. He held it open and gestured her through. "Welcome to the… ancestral… home of the Snapes," he drawled sarcastically.

The interior was dark and musty, yet devoid of dust.  _ Magic, _ Hermione decided.  _ He's placed a stasis charm over everything. _ He flicked his wand behind her, and brackets of candles sputtered to life, illuminating the old fashioned sitting room.

The room was covered in bookcases, most bound with dark leather. Around the rickety wooden coffee table stood a threadbare sofa and an old, worn armchair. The natural light from the open door disappeared as Severus slammed it shut and moved into the light from the candles.

"I need to fetch some items from the second floor," he told her, eyes dark spots in his face. "You may stay here, or accompany me."

Hermione rested a hand on the back of the sofa. "May I look at the books?"

His mouth twisted into a sneer, but there was very little malice in it. "Hermione Granger- bookworm to the very, very last. The books down here are nothing of value- occasionally I receive visits from other Death Eaters. The good books are upstairs."

She grinned at him. "Then upstairs it is," she said warmly, walking over to his side. She looked around quickly, then frowned. "Where's the staircase?"

He looked down at her, expression inscrutable. Then he turned his head away and with a sharp movement of his hand, the bookcase in the center of the room flew out of the way to reveal a narrow staircase. "There. I will ascend first."

He was true to his word, climbing up the stairs without a sound. Hermione followed a few steps behind, a small shiver running through her at the tightness of the space. The gas lamps in the staircase allowed for some light, and Hermione concentrated at the form of her mentor before her. It wasn't long before they came to a door that opened on to the second floor.

"The Library is the second door on the left," he told her curtly. "Use common sense when deciding to open a book. Read the titles. If it doesn't have a title-"

"I'm not stupid, Severus," Hermione replied, a warning in her tone. "I know how to handle dangerous books. If it doesn't have a title that means that it has a reputation Dark enough to not need one and that makes it a bad choice for a little light reading."

He looked mildly taken aback, but he just sneered and stalked in the opposite direction. She scowled at his back and turned to march into the Library. Once inside, she sighed in relief. It was clearly the most cared for section of the house- the two study tables were sturdy and the two armchairs were plush- the small table behind them with an assortment of liquors suggested to Hermione that some amount of time was spent in this room with a tumbler full of mead or whiskey and a good book. Or good conversation- both armchairs looked as if they were used frequently. She wondered who would come over to Severus' house-. She knew that he and Lucius Malfoy were friends and that he was Draco's godfather.

She walked over to one of the shelves, a smile coming over her face without her knowledge. This was where she was in her element- books, books, and perhaps a few more books. It wasn't long before she selected a slender tome on warding and curled up in one of the armchairs to read.

Whatever he was doing seemed to be taking longer than he expected- it was nearly two and a half hours before he returned, a hard scowl on his face. "Time to leave."

She sighed- the book was absolutely fascinating and she was close to finishing it. Apparently he noticed the regretful look she was giving the book, because his scowl softened. "You may bring it with you if you wish," he said haltingly. "There is no copy of it at the Library, nor do I have an additional copy at the school. I found the last chapter… enlightening. It would be a shame to stop so close to the end."

She grinned up at him. "Thanks."

Instead of replying, he nodded stiffly. "Are you prepared to leave?"

"Yes," she said, standing and arching her back to stretch. "Did you get everything you needed?"

He started to answer, then paused. "No. This is my home, my father bought it shortly before I was born. When I came of age and the house moved into my possession, I put up every ward known to man and I did this to ensure that I always had a safe place to return to," he said gravely. "In case something should happen- run here. Be careful- there are some Death Eaters that know of the location of his house, including Lucius Malfoy." She had been right.

"So disguise myself and use a Concealment Charm," Hermione said, just as seriously. "And should you need me to come here?"

He held out his hand. "Arm?" She held it out, shaking back her sleeve so that the watch he had given her years ago was visible. She had taken exceptionally good care of it- it was hardly tarnished. She had been pleasantly surprised when she had discovered it was made of real silver, and so her care for it had increased.

The slim fingers that wrapped around her wrist to hold it steady were warm. Swiftly, he tapped the watch, murmuring something she couldn't quite catch for a long time. A new image slowly appeared on the third face- a spider's web. "This one is for here- Spinner's End," he told her carefully. "Just in case. In the past, Lucius has… deposited me… here, after I have come face to face with the Dark Lord's… displeasure. If there is something important, then you may need to make a report for me."

"Of course," Hermione said gently, as gently as she dared. "If you ne-" she stopped herself. Severus Snape was not a man who asked for the help of others- he was a proud man. "I'm here, Severus."

He raised an eyebrow, and she looked him straight in the eye, telling him what she couldn't tell him in words. Finally, he nodded. "Let's go."

They walked out of the library in silence, and he Apparated them from the living room rather than walk down to the Apparation point again. The walk to her house was quick, but Severus measured his strides to hers.

They waited until the sun was low in the sky to set fire to the house.

Severus didn't say anything when the first tear escaped- but she could feel the shifting of his muscles where her hand rested on his arm, and it comforted her in some unfathomable way. By the time the authorities arrived, her face was dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 11. 
> 
> And so they get closer and closer...
> 
> Next chapter will be up Saturday, as per usual! Please leave your kudos and comments!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining! This chapter is also beta'd by Sorasrardust.

**_Chapter 12_ **

Severus had been called many times over the course of the summer- but never as long as this time. Hermione was out of her mind with worrying.

Lately, she hadn't been using the Time-Turner as much as she had been before, mostly because she didn't want to stretch out time any longer than she had to. This had the side effect of resulting in Hermione being perpetually attached to Harry's side like a burr, Twenty-four-seven. With no breaks in between like she usually had.

But now the boys were in bed and she was out pacing in the entryway. It was probably three in the morning, and the weariness was creeping along the edges of Hermione's worry, twining around her fears and giving them a distant and yet also intensified sharpness.

_ I hope he isn't being tortured. What if they found out about him- what if they know he's a spy, what if he discovered- No. Stop, Hermione, stop. If you keep thinking about the what-ifs you'll go crazy. Severus has been doing this for as long as you've been alive- he can take care of himself. He's an amazing fighter and he can withstand torture that would have you spilling your deepest secrets in two heartbeats. _

Her watch burned brightly, the heat searing her arm. She let out a small gasp, then looked at the watch face. The small spider's web was glowing brightly.

_ Spinner's End. He's at Spinner's End. He told me before that sometimes they just drop him off there, when he's too weak to go on his own. He's probably hurt- I should- I should get his potion's bag and disguise myself quickly. _

She did just that- racing up the stairs only half-mindful of quietness to grab the bag full of medicinal potions while casting silencing spells on her feet and changing the color of her hair. She Glamoured her face, then Disillusioned herself with a brisk tap of her wand. She slipped out the door, took a deep breath, then turned on one foot and Apparated to Spinner's End.

When she arrived, she cast  _ Homenum Revelio _ to figure out how many people were in the area. Other than a prone figure lying on the floor in the living room, she was the only person on the property. Against all the instincts screaming at her to run to Severus' side, she cautiously entered the house, only removing the Disillusionment and kneeling on the floor when she made sure it was indeed Severus' body sprawled on the ground. His wand was on the floor next to him, and she assumed that the last thing he had done before he had passed out was to call her through the watch.

He was face down, so she rolled him over to look at his front. He groaned quietly, a sound that made her heart leap to her throat. His eyes flickered open, registered her presence, then closed again with another small noise of pain.  _ Oh, Severus. What did they do to you? _ His face was a bloody mess; his nose was broken in at least one place and both his eyes blackened, and a cut on his lip was swelling. A spell revealed that several teeth were loose- another one fixed them while a third siphoned the blood off his face and robes. She Vanished his robes, then gingerly unbuttoned his shirt to look at his chest.

She had work to do.

Blood. More blood. That was all the early morning was to her- healing injury after injury and trying to remove the blood. She winced when she saw his back- the Dark Lord had not been pleased. Severus had a broken wrist as well, and three fingers on the other hand had been snapped.

_ Why?  _ She wondered.  _ Why did they do this to you? What happened? My poor Severus, why is this asked of you?  _ She shoved her own feelings down. They would not help him; she needed to concentrate.

The sun was rising in the east, allowing light to filter in through musty curtains when Hermione finally sat down. She had levitated Severus into his bedroom after healing the most threatening injuries- the internal bleeding and the concussion. Then, slowly and methodically, she had cleaned him carefully with a warm washcloth, changing the water as it turned a strained pink time and time again. Now he was clean and mostly intact. The only blood left was in his hair, and when she lowered him to his bed again, she removed it with magic.

She felt like sobbing, like hitting something, like tearing into Voldemort and all his Death Eaters with a knife, with her nails, with her teeth. Her hands were red with blood, his blood, the blood of her friend and mentor and teacher. He looked so pale- Hermione had put a few spoonfuls of a Blood Replenishing Potion in his mouth and used a spell to make him swallow. Madam Pomfrey had used the same spell many times on Harry (and probably Severus too, come to think of it) and had taught it to the girl one day as she waited at Harry's side for him to wake up.

The Essence of Dittany had helped plenty, as had a half a tablespoon of Dreamless Sleep. She didn't want to give him too much, but she didn't want him waking while she worked on him either.

But now the work was done. Hermione collapsed into a chair, leaning her head back on the hard seat. She ached with the weariness that had been flooded by a rush of adrenaline. Now even standing seemed like too much more- but eventually, she pushed herself up and stumbled to the bathroom. Just looking in the mirror made Hermione wince- her hair was a mess, and she had bloodstains on her clothes and on her face, from where she had been continually pushing back her hair.

_ I can't do an ounce more magic tonight, if I want to set up some runic wards, _ Hermione thought with a groan.  _ Let's see if Severus has a shirt I could borrow.  _ She eventually just grabbed a dark grey tee-shirt from his dresser and slipped it on, deciding that since it fell to the middle of her thighs and she was planning to wake first later, it would do. Finally, she set a few runic wards on the house to alert her if anyone was coming. Runic wards needed plenty of power. When she was finished, Hermione felt drained, sapped of all her strength.

With that done, she curled up on the other side of Severus' large bed, and went to sleep.

She must have awakened around noon, because the sunlight was bright in the room and her stomach was making its protests known. With a groan, she sat up and stretched, the memory of the previous night returning and sinking to the bottom of her stomach with a sickening feeling.

The grey tee-shirt and the bed had smelled enough like Severus to mask the metallic odor of the blood hanging in the room, but when she sat up she noticed it again and her stomach rolled. Severus was sleeping, if not peacefully. Even in slumber his brow was furrowed, and his hands were clenched in fists.

Although she still felt awful, Hermione's nap had recharged her magical stores. She felt well enough to gather up her clothes, Disillusion herself, and Apparate back to Grimmauld Place.

She had been right- it was around noon. Sounds of the Weasleys eating (the red-haired boys could never do anything quietly when it came to food) were coming from the kitchen, so Hermione headed directly up the stairs. Someone (herself) had left a stack of clean clothes in the bathroom before they had gone down to lunch, so she Vanished her old clothes and brought the new ones back with her to Spinner's End.

There, she checked the wards again, and when she was satisfied that no one but Severus was there, she entered again. When she checked on her patient, he was still unconscious, leaving her comfortable enough to use the shower.

_ I hope he doesn't think I'm taking liberties with his house, _ she thought with a small frown.  _ If he does, I'll just have to point out he called me here and I probably saved his sorry hide. I'm allowed to borrow a shirt and use the shower. _

Hermione cleaned herself quickly, washing her hair only to get all the sweat and blood out of it. The shower also had a kind of mental cleansing- she felt better as soon as she stepped under the hot water, and when she was finished washing, she felt both physically and magically refreshed.

The clothes she had brought were those she wasn't afraid to get dirty- if Severus started bleeding again, she didn't want blood stains on anything pretty or new. Instead, a simple pair of jeans and an old tee-shirt were fine. She thought about leaving the shirt she had borrowed in the bathroom, then changed her mind. She had used it, so it was only polite to wash it before returning it. Now all that was left to do was wait for Severus to wake up.

A quick trip to the library to grab a book, and she was back in the chair by Severus' bed.

Hermione lost herself in the book, completely forgetting to make food of any kind. It was late in the afternoon when Severus began to stir, causing her to put down the heavy tome and take heed of both her surroundings and her stomach.

So she watched him- he really awakened quickly, but kept his eyes shut and breathing even until he had assessed the situation he had woken to. He was mentally taking stock of his injuries, his position, and the person in the room with him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked finally, only the slightest tremor in her voice. "I know you're awake, Severus."

He coughed when he tried to speak. Hermione promptly provided water and helped him sit up. He gazed at her with a strange expression in his eyes- some blend of thanks, anger, and embarrassment. His face was totally impassive, but she knew. She always knew.

"I feel fine," Severus finally answered. "I don't remember much of last night."

Hermione resisted the urge to rest a hand on his forehead or sweep his hair behind his ear. "You called me, through the watch. I think you passed out right after that. I found you and healed you."  _ That sounds so easy, so simple. You called, I came. You were hurt, I healed you. Language like that doesn't lend knowledge to the color of blood that's been drying for hours or the sounds bones make when they come back together again. _

He looked away from her, the same anger and embarrassment in his eyes. She needed to do something about that.

"You scared me badly last night," she said finally. "I can't believe that you made it here, let alone had enough strength to call me here. But I'm glad you did. I needed that."  _ He hates it when any weakness is revealed. How much did it cost him, last night, to ask for help? _

"I'm glad my near-death was a valuable educational experience, Hermione," Severus said wryly, some of the negative emotions dissipating. "Have you prepared something to eat?"

"No," she admitted. "I forgot. Why was the Dark Lord so angry?"

Severus looked her in the eye, then turned his head away. "He wants Potter's location," he said, voice disinterested. "But the Fidelius Charm means that I cannot give the information, even if I should want to. It even removes the name from my mind. He was… upset." The dripping, sarcastic quality of his words and the memory of his body the night before made it obvious that  _ upset _ was an understatement.

Hermione sucked a breath in. "What would you like to eat?" she asked, after a moment. "I can go back to Headquarters to get food, if you don't have anything here."

"There should be broth of some kind in a can in the pantry," Severus informed her. "That will do."

She nodded, and hurried out of the room.

* * *

Hermione hated parties.

While Ron had no problem with people hanging around him and congratulating him, Hermione was another story. Growing up in the shadows of brothers like Charlie and Bill meant that her friend craved any chance to feel special- Hermione could understand that, and she didn't begrudge him his chance to celebrate an accomplishment. However, she was angry on Harry's behalf- Ron was nodding and grinning and acting like it was a given that he was supposed to be the Gryffindor male Prefect. He was wrong. It should have been Harry, and everyone knew it.

And now she had to smile and take the congratulations and pretend as if she didn't know that Sturgis Podmore had been caught breaking into the door at the Department of Mysteries. This was bad. Very bad. Severus had filled her in earlier.

Ginny appeared at her side, putting a thin freckled arm around Hermione. "We all knew it would be you, Hermione," the redheaded girl said confidently. "I just hope it'll be me, next year."

"Who knows?" said Hermione with an uncomfortable shrug. "What time is it, Ginny?"

The girl frowned, but removed her arm to turn around and check the clock on the wall. "Nearly ten."

"I'm so tired," Hermione said, raising her soft palette to make herself yawn. "I think I'm going to go upstairs now. We'll have to leave early tomorrow morning." Of course, that wouldn't be a problem for her. A Time-Turner could take care of just about every scheduling issue.

She had gotten good enough at lying by now that Ginny just eyed her sympathetically. "Alright. I'll try not to wake you when I go to bed. G'night."

"Goodnight," Hermione replied, putting a grateful smile on her face.

She wandered over to where Ron was, and put a hand on the boy's arm to draw his attention. "Goodnight, Ron," she said, smiling quickly.

"Night, Hermione," he said happily, grinning back at her. There was something in his eyes that unsettled her, something that she didn't want to place. "We'll patrol the train tomorrow, right?"

"Right," she said, brushing off the feeling. "Don't stay up too late."

Harry was sitting in a corner, staring at a picture Moody had given him. She wandered over, coming to stand in front of him. "It's the old Order," he said simply, voice breaking slightly. "Look."

She sat down next to him, patting his knee. "Your mother was so beautiful, Harry. She looks so happy." At Harry's questioning look, she shrugged. "She has that, that presence, even in a picture. You can't help but notice how happy she looks. She has the man, the friends, the purpose. From what Sirius and Remus have told us, she was popular- well-liked, confident and such. You can tell just by looking at her."  _ She's everything I'm not. I wanted to be a woman like Lily Potter when I was younger, but I don't think I want that now. _

"I never noticed," responded Harry. "I always thought she looked pretty, though." He blushed suddenly. "Are you going to bed?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, turning her head so she could look into his green eyes. Even though the guilt was pricking at her, she slipped into his mind, doing a quick scan. Jealousy and guilt leapt out at her, and she closed the connection quickly. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."

Harry nodded, eyes sympathetic. "I get that. Most nights I see-" he stopped, then shrugged. "You know."

It wasn't her fault the air was so cold, Hermione thought as she pulled her arms around herself to halt a shiver. "Yeah. I know. Goodnight, Harry."

Instead of going up to her bed, Hermione walked up the extra flight of stairs to Severus' rooms. Of course, he hadn't stopped at the party. He was working.

So when she knocked twice on the door and walked in the room, she was unfazed by his scowl. "One day your face is going to freeze like that," she chirped. "Didn't your mother ever tell you?"

His scowl deepened. "Impertinent woman. If you are going to stay, make yourself useful. Peeves is planning to flood the kitchens with scalding soup,  _ again _ , and the Headmaster refuses to do anything about it. Therefore, we need plenty of burn paste for the house-elves."  _ He called me a woman. _

"Isn't he scared of the Bloody Baron?" Hermione asked, a small frown settling upon her own features. "Couldn't you ask him to do something about it? That sounds inhumane!" Her views on house-elves were still as strong as ever, but she didn't have the time to focus on social justice. Later. When the war was won. If she was alive when it was over. She had plans for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Like renaming it.

He just raised an eyebrow at her. "It is. But no. The Bloody Baron is still upset because last year food the kitchens provided for his Death Day Party wasn't _ fragrant _ enough. This year, the prank is fine with him."

With a look that said he wasn't saying anything more on the subject, Severus brusquely nodded toward a cutting board and some aloe leaves. "You do remember how to make a simple burn paste?" There was a question hidden under his biting tone, one that she recognized.

"Of course," Hermione said, one eyebrow raised to let him know  _ Yes, I got the message. No, I'm not stupid. _ She lightened the look with a quick smile, reaching her hands behind her head to grasp her heavy hair and twine it into a semblance of a serviceable bun. He scowled. She rolled up her sleeves, and set to work.

Making a burn paste wasn't especially gruelling- it was a fourth-year potion, after all. But the proportions in the text were for humans, not house-elves. She had to reduce the potency by twenty-three and a third percent and that would be the difficult part. She was very aware of Severus' eyes on her- when he wasn't paying attention to his own potion. Eventually, hers evened out to a smooth paste in a muted orange.

"Is that enough or do we need more?" she asked, washing her hands quickly before pushing the stray curls that had escaped her hair tie out of her eyes. "Severus?"

He glanced up from the root he was chopping, then made a grimace of hesitation. "From what I made before this should be enough. But-" he shook his head once sharply, causing the leather thong that held his hair back to snap. "Gods above," he snarled. With one hand occupied chopping the root and the other stirring the base of the potion, he couldn't do anything about it. "Why can't one fucking-"

"Severus!" Hermione exclaimed, planting her hands on her hips. "It's okay. Where do you keep your hair bands?"

He glared at her through a curtain of dark hair.  _ It really has a lovely color, _ Hermione mused.  _ Although I can understand why everyone calls it greasy. I'll bet it was a bit oily to begin with, hair like that, but the fumes from all those student potions probably ruined it. _ "Third drawer on the right."

She rummaged through the drawer quickly, finding three and choosing one. "If you wet it before you put it in, it'll dry in place and hold better," she informed him with a small grin. "When your hair is as… unruly as mine is, you learn all these little tricks."

"Just put the damn thing back in my hair, so I can see whatever the hell I'm doing," said the surly Potions Master, still eyeing her balefully.

"You could probably do this potion in your sleep," Hermione said playfully, then conjured a stool to be able to reach Severus' head. "You're unnaturally tall," she informed him. "Tilt your head back."

He huffed, but complied. "You think flattery will get you somewhere," he said grumpily. "Wha-" His mouth shut.

Hermione ran her fingers through his hair gently, pulling out the tangles, marvelling at the softness.  _ Hardly greasy at all. I suppose it's not as bad as it looks. Like him.  _ A shudder ran down his spine, and he stopped saying whatever he had been saying. Suddenly she realized that she was just standing there, running her fingers through his hair. Working swiftly, glad he couldn't see the blush on her face, she gathered it into a ponytail and tied the leather quickly. "There," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder briefly. "Perfect."

"Thank you," he said, voice gravelly. For him, anyway. Far from the usual honey over silk, this sound was a quiet rumble produced low in his chest. It awoke something in her, a responding call or, perhaps, maybe, something like, or even similar to a moan?  _ Oh gods his voice. No. Oh no. You naughty, awful girl, no. It was nothing like that. _

When she finally sucked in a breath, it caught in her throat. "No problem," she squeaked, hopping off the stool. "What did you need, before?" She Vanished the stool and circled the lab table to stand before him.

On his part, Severus was feeling distinctly unsettled. He couldn't remember anyone willingly putting their hands in his hair, ever. For as long as he could remember, he had been Snivellus, the greasy freak, the greasy bat of the dungeons. His hair was the feature he most reviled, after his nose.

And she had combed it with her fingers, and he could  _ feel _ when she lingered a moment, running them through again and again until she finally pulled it back. Her fingers, long and slender with carefully filed nails, had touched his scalp and hair gently, tenderly. He had seen her do the same for Potter- try and comb his mop into some semblance of shape, massage his head lightly to calm him after a nightmare, or ruffle his hair when she rose and he remained seated.

That remembrance made him jealous- instantly, he wanted those lovely hands back in his hair, and away from Potter's mangy head. And that made him nervous. Severus Snape was a man who hated being unsure of anything. But he couldn't help wondering if she had put her hands in his hair when he had been unconscious and helpless at her hands. When she had been healing him.

"Nothing," he said brusquely. It was better if she left- better to leave him in peace to brew and sort through his tumultuous brain. But- there was a microsecond where her expression had crumpled, where he saw that she had been expecting something and he had failed to provide it.

The realization that she wanted to stay with him made his chest hurt. "Unless-" he began, the stopped again, looking down to avoid meeting her eyes. "Company whilst I brew can be- be bearable if- if it is not distracting."

He knew he wasn't fooling her- he caught the 'Oh, Severus' ducking of the head and smile before she nodded. "Let me go get a book."

"No need," he replied. He didn't really want her leaving the room. "Choose one off the shelf, if you wish."

The grin on her face made it worth it, and tentatively, he crooked the ends of his mouth up in return.

* * *

Hermione bit back a yawn as the rocking motion of the train again lulled her into giving in to her fatigue. She and Severus had stayed up most of the night, brewing and reading and having a lovely conversation. He had even joked with her a few times- snarky, sarcastic jokes, sure, but jokes nonetheless.

The Prefect's Carriage was stifling in her robes, and even Ernie Macmillian was fighting to stay awake. On her other side, Ron wasn't even trying to pay attention, looking out the window with a faraway expression on his freckled face.

So, although a (very small) portion of her (rather prestigious) brainpower was focused on listening to and committing to memory the speech of the current Head Girl and Head Boy, the other parts were free to shift between worrying about Sirius, worrying about Harry, and thinking about Severus.

Dear gods, she could not understand why Sirius felt it necessary to take so many stupid risks. She understood he was a reckless man- he had been worse before his incarceration, apparently, but even now he could act with an astounding lack of forethought. Honestly. Going with them to the station was a huge risk, and while she was scanning the crowd, alert for any sign of Death Eaters, she had seen several people give the large black dog strange glances. It set her on edge, even though Severus had told her the night before that the Dark Lord hadn't had any attack planned at the station. She wouldn't take any risks with Harry's safety.

Harry- he was trying so hard to be supportive of her and Ron while hiding his jealousy. She had been shocked too, when Severus told her that Dumbledore planned to promote Ron to Prefect rather than Harry. The Gryffindor choice for the girl Prefect was obvious- to choose anyone other than herself would have ludicrous. But to skip over Harry- that was strange. And while she thought she understood why Dumbledore had done it, her heart had clenched at the slightly lost look on Harry's face when she and Ron had turned away.

And then it hurt worse when she looked into his mind to see that he was thinking about how strange it was to travel on the Hogwarts Express without Ron.  _ Serves you right, you stupid girl, for snooping in his thoughts in the first place. You rarely like what you find when you eavesdrop. You know that he values his friendship with Ron more than his friendship was with you. _

The last item occupying her mind was, unsurprisingly, Severus Snape. Her professor, her mentor, her- dare she think it- friend. The dark man with long scarred fingers, a devastatingly sarcastic wit, and those eyes that were a mix of contradictions- she had thought they showed nothing, no emotion at all, but more and more often she was able to read a flicker of amusement or disdain or anger. Those eyes that had met hers and passed through to her mind, reading all of her deepest secrets and most horrible memories without comment, without judgment. He himself was another contradiction. A half-blood Death Eater, a Slytherin with two masters, a principled and honorable spy. A genius who taught dunderheads.

She longed to know more about him, and that embarrassed her. Severus Snape was a dangerous enigma, as mesmerizing as any other thing she had ever known. Was he her teacher? The obvious answer was yes, of course. She had sat at the same table, two rows back with Harry and Ron two or three times a week since she was eleven. In addition to teaching her to brew, he taught her the mind arts, Occlumency and Legilimency, and how to fight with fists and feet and knives. He taught her spells that were grey, borderline dark, and then outright black.

The real question was, did she think of him as her teacher? Or did she think of him as something else? Something totally forbidden and wrong and yet, perhaps a little right too?

And what was so wrong about it? Severus, while not conventionally handsome, had several characteristics she found rather attractive. The aristocratic severity of his features, his hands, his way of moving with such powerful grace, and his voice. Oh dear gods, that voice. Hermione wasn't so delusional to call him anything such as what Ginny or Lavender might use- Severus Snape was not a man to be called 'hot' or 'steamy' or gods forbid 'hunky.' Even the thought made her frown- no. Just- no. Not him.

But Hermione was attracted to Severus, she realized with a bit of a wince.  _ Attracted to? Fancy the pants off, more like.  _ And she had to admit that part of what attracted her to such a degree was his intelligence. He was not your average wizard; Severus was not just a Potions professor, he had his Mastery in Potions. That required years under another Master, a thesis, and the creation of a new potion. She had looked up his Master's thesis- and had needed a technical dictionary and three read-throughs to understand it. Just by talking to him, she felt as if she was exercising some vital mental muscle.

Part of it also was the way he treated her- like she was an intelligent adult with advice and ideas that held worth. He listened when she spoke, and even when his comments sounded derisive or downright mean, there was some value to be had. He joked with her, and relaxed sometimes. More than once, he had laughed or smirked around her, although the previous night was the first time he had actually  _ smiled _ . Severus Snape, smiling. Harry or Ron would never believe it. The time she and Severus spent debating or discussing or talking or even just brewing were becoming the high points in her days. There was something about the camaraderie they shared, Hermione's secret, that made the opportunity to be free and just as sarcastic and pessimistic as she wanted more valuable than she could have ever imagined.

Of course, he had far more than his fair share of problems. He had been abused as a child- she had seen that much with her tentative forays into Legilimency. He had a fascination with the Dark Arts, he could be cruel, and he was incapable of asking for help. She wasn't blind to those faults. He was a snarky, mean, dangerous bastard with a temper on top of it all. But that was what made the little moments better- when he was kind or gentle with her, or when he smiled at her. The fact that he trusted her enough to allow her access to his home and actually let her give him medical attention.

As she sat in the unreasonably warm Prefect's Carriage, as she reasoned her emotions out in her head, she finally admitted it to herself again.  _ Damn it, I fancy Severus. Snape. Professor Snape. I just really hate myself, don't I? I go for the closest guy I have absolutely no chance with. Lovely. Perfectly lovely. _

And then she made a second realization, one that almost made her groan aloud.  _ How on earth am I going to keep this from him? Act normal? I can't act normal. What I like about being around him is that I don't need to  _ act _ normal, I can be normal. I guess I'll just have to bury this keep behind my shields and try not to think about it when I'm around him. _

In a sort of daze, she followed Ron to the carriage where Harry was sitting with Ginny, Luna Lovegood, and Neville. Ginny was familiar, of course, but she was more uncertain about Neville and Luna Lovegood. Hermione had never quite gotten over the fact that she had hexed Neville to get to the Sorcerer's Stone, first year. She had been feeling guilty about that for a long time, so she always made an effort to help Neville out since then, penitence for hurting him then. He had never appeared to hold it against her, but still she felt bad.

And Luna Lovegood, daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood, owner and editor of  _ The Quibbler _ , a magazine that was generally regarded as the ridiculous ravings of a poor widower who hadn't been a 'complete silverware set' before Selene Lovegood had died. Ravenclaw, fourth year, known for wandering around barefoot and making uncomfortably accurate comments with no mental filter. Also known as Looney Lovegood. Hermione was not a fan of those who lived in dream worlds- although she could excuse it in a nine-year-old who had just lost her mother. But in a fourteen-year-old? She made Hermione a bit uncomfortable.

Of course, it had more than a little something to do with the girl's appearance. Those eyes, that looked past things, and a voice that was incredibly dreamy, almost like a Muggle who was stoned out of their mind. But behind the strange clothing and wacky jewellery and stringy blonde hair, a sharp intelligence rested.

She made an effort to join in on the conversation, but was unable to put much energy into it. Snapping at Ron, calling Pansy Parkinson a cow, all in a day's work. But Hermione perked up a little when she got a chance to test Luna's mettle.

"Of course not.  _ The Quibbler's _ rubbish, everyone knows that," she snapped, as if she didn't know that Luna's father was the editor.

"Excuse me," said Luna, voice sudden frosty rather than dreamy. "My father's the editor."  _ So she's not such a loony-bird, then. Loyal to her father. Perhaps- Yes. I think she would be a good friend. Time to act the part of embarrassed know-it-all. _

She made herself blush. "I-oh. Well… it's got some interesting… I mean, it's quite-"

"I'll have it back, thank you," Luna said coldly. She snatched the magazine back from Harry and promptly turned it upside down.

Hermione looked down and away, but the sound of three raucous voices outside the carriage brought her head up again.  _ Darn. That sounds like Malfoy. And where he goes, his goons go too. _

The carriage door opened, and Malfoy sauntered in, Crabbe and Goyle following then flanking him. The blond aristocrat crossed his arms and smirked down at Harry, obviously there to flaunt his new Prefect's badge. Malfoy had been particularly gleeful when he had realized that Ron, not Harry, was the Gryffindor Prefect.

Harry responded aggressively, as Hermione had known he would. "What?" he snapped, before Malfoy could say anything.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," Malfoy drawled. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a Prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments." His aura of smugness deepened.

Harry gave a short laugh. "Yeah," he said. "But you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone." Everyone gave the perfunctory laughs, but Hermione kept her eyes on Malfoy. He had a gleam in his eye, one that she did not like at all.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be second-best to a  _ Weasley _ , Potter?" he asked cruelly.

Hermione saw the flash of hurt on Harry face and leapt to defend him. "Shut up, Malfoy," she said sharply, a warning beyond the command in her voice.  _ Let's see if the Daddy's boy has anymore fight in him. He looks like he's bursting to say something. _

"I seem to have touched a nerve," he said, smirk widening. "Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be  _ dogging  _ your footsteps in case you step out of line."

_ Dogging. Dogged. Dogs. Sirius. Damn it! How much does he know? It must have been his father, it's not safe. Wormtail must have told the Dark Lord and his followers about Sirius' Animagus form. Damn it, damn it, damn it all to hell. I have to tell Severus, he has to make sure Dumbledore doesn't let Sirius out of the house anymore. If anything happened to Sirius Harry would be destroyed, Sirius is the closest thing he has to a father. Even if Sirius went on the run, he would have to either dye his fur white or disguise himself well, but there are ways of seeing past all that. _

She thought all this in a moment, not giving in to the urge to look at Harry, or let her fear show on her face. "Get out!" she snarled, standing up and advancing at him. "I'll bet you haven't forgotten when I punched you a year ago and I will do it again, Prefect or no Prefect! I'm a Prefect too, you bloody wanker, and I'm telling you to  _ get out! _ " She bared her teeth at him, her eyes promising pain and retribution.

He left, glancing back at her with more than a hint of fear. "Crazy Mudblood," he hissed, then slammed the door behind him.

"Whoo!" Ron said, as soon as the footsteps faded. "Go Hermione!" The look Harry and Hermione shared went right over Ron's head. They knew- Lucius Malfoy had seen and recognized Sirius.

"What did she do a year ago?" Neville asked, voice trembling a bit.

Ron chuckled. "She punched Malfoy in the face," he said smugly, continuing with the story. Hermione couldn't pay attention- she didn't want to. Instead, she leaned her head against the window and gazed at the countryside as she contemplated what had happened.

Luna looked up from her magazine, staring at Hermione for a few seconds before returning to the publication.

They arrived at Hogwarts as usual, near dark. The castle looked imposing, framed in the growing purple of the night. But this year Hagrid wasn't there to lead the first years; instead, Professor Grubbly-Plank, his usual substitute, was ushering them onto the boats. She and Ron had to leave Harry to help with crowd control- one of the usual duties of a Prefect.

She and Ron caught up with Harry at the carriages- the ones that had been drawn by invisible horses the year before. But now-

"Thestrals," she whispered, numb fingers dropping her trunk with a thump. "I- I can see them."  _ This isn't right. What fifth-year should be able to see a Thestral? _

Ron frowned at her, leaning down to pick up her trunk. "What?"

Luna's head poked out of the carriage, her protuberant grey eyes fixed on Hermione. "You can see them. I can see them too."

A lump had emerged in Hermione's throat, and she couldn't say a word until she was in the carriage, squeezed between Harry and Ron.

"How can you see them?" Hermione asked, the numbness slow to flee. "I mean- I'm sorry. That's wasn't terribly sensitive." She sent an apologetic look at Luna.

The blonde girl shrugged- this apparently forgave Hermione for her comment about the Quibbler. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. My mother died when I was seven. She was experimenting with a spell and it went badly. I was with her in the lab. You?" There was a kind of painful sympathy in her voice, one that made the part of Hermione want to cry when she saw someone hurt.

The rest of the carriage was watching with interest, but all of them had confusion etched into their faces. Their young faces. "I- Last year. In the graveyard. We were fighting, and one of the Death Eaters died."  _ And those Death Eaters that Severus poisoned- the ones we fought. The red-haired woman I killed. Alcott, I think her name was. _

Harry's eyes were darting between her and Luna. "I didn't know that one of them died," he said in a hushed voice. "What happened, Hermione?"

She didn't want to answer him. "It was a fight, Harry," she mumbled. "This is war. People die in war."  _ People die when I slash a major artery with a knife, or hit them in the chest with a Bone-Breaker. Or when I Stun them and Severus has to poison them. _

"What is this about anyway?" Neville asked. His face was scrunched up, but with a dispassionate jolt Hermione realized that some of the baby fat had melted off his face during the summer vacation. They were becoming adults- young men and women. Of course, she was almost three years older than all of them.

Hermione snapped into know-it-all mode. "Thestrals are magical creatures that can only be seen if the observer has also seen death. They're thought to be omens of death or bad fortune because to see them you need to have seen someone die. Thestrals have the appearance of skeletal black winged horses- they look dead themselves. They do eat meat- raw only, but they also like blood. They have good noses and excellent directional skills."

Everyone gaped at her, and she allowed a flush to steal over her cheeks. "I read," she snapped. "The reason that Luna and I can see them and you lot can't is because we've watched someone die."

Neville cleared his throat timidly. "Oh," he said. "The horses pulling the carriage? I can see them too. I never knew what they were."

"Who'd you see kick the bucket, Neville?" Ron asked, with all of his usual tact.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Sorry, Neville."

The sandy-haired boy shook his head. "It's okay. It was my great-aunt. My grandmother's sister. She was old. It- it wasn't bad, or anything. It just looked like she was sleeping."

"So why can't I see them?" Harry asked suddenly. "I mean, I saw my mother die."

_ Oh, Harry.  _ "You might not have actually seen it," Hermione said gently. "Or it could be you weren't able to process it. To see a Thestral you've had to face death- to have seen and accepted it for what it is."

For the rest of the carriage ride to the castle, they were silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 12. 
> 
> Please leave your kudos and comments! I love hearing what you all think of the story.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! Thank you to Sorasrardust for betaing again for me!

_**Chapter 13** _

“Ah, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said warmly. “Please come in.” His performance was so perfect it could have been genuine- the twinkle in his blue eyes, the grandfatherly smile on his face, the air of genial happiness.

Hermione nodded at the Headmaster. “You wanted to see me, sir?” The years had taught her to be cautious with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Dumbledore nodded, and gestured to the seat in front of him. “Sit, sit, my dear girl. I have some things I want to discuss with you for the coming year.”

Hermione did as she was bid, and sat, smoothing her skirt neatly. “Concerning Harry?”

“Yes, my dear,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. “I am afraid this year will be the most difficult for the poor boy.” He looked sorrowful at the thought. “Tell me about his summer.”

It still made Hermione uncomfortable to talk about Harry to the Headmaster or Severus. It felt like she was betraying his privacy and his trust and it felt wrong. “The incident in the graveyard has had a serious impact on his morale,” Hermione said quietly, self-loathing coming over her. She shoved it behind her Occlumency shields. “He’s having bad dreams. He- he is filled with anger. At Ron and I, at you, and the world. Not letting us write to him certainly had a detrimental effect.” Hermione looked up at the Headmaster, a touch of reproach in her voice. “He was very upset that you haven’t talked with him.”

“There is much he does not know,” said Dumbledore gravely. “I cannot have too much contact with the boy this year. You will have to be an influence on him, Miss Granger.” He sighed and shook his head. “It is a pity that he and Severus became enemies so quickly. He needs a mentor. He needs to foster love.”

Hermione smiled. “Then we might have some hope. Harry finally noticed he fancies girls. I think she may fancy him back.”

The Headmaster straightened, with what may have been joy on his face. “He has finally recognized his feelings for young Ginerva Weasley?”

_ What? No.  _ “No,” Hermione said, frowning now. “No- Cho Chang. Ravenclaw, sixth year-“

“Yes, yes, I know who Miss Chang is,” the Headmaster said, frowning. “Miss Granger, another of your duties will be to ensure that Mr Potter and Miss Chang  _ do not _ interact alone.”

Hermione stood indignantly. “ _ Headmaster _ ! Harry can fancy whomever-“

Dumbledore stood as well, and said in a quiet, deadly voice, “Miss Granger, do not question me.”

_ He’s going to manipulate every single aspect of poor Harry’s life. This isn’t fair! _ “What harm will a small dalliance do?” Hermione asked desperately. “Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry’s only fifteen!”

Dumbledore struck his desk. “I said  _ do not question me _ , Miss Granger. The Chang girl is not right for Harry. They will not-“

“Who cares?” Hermione yelled, voice rising in both pitch and volume. “It would make him  _ happy _ .”

Now Dumbledore’s eyes were slivers of cold ice. “Miss Cho Chang is not suitable for Harry Potter.”

It was beginning to dawn on Hermione with stunning clarity. “But red-headed and milky skinned pureblood Ginny Weasley is?” she asked bitterly.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said finally. He sighed, and once again he looked like an old, charitable grandfather. “Miss Granger, look at it from my perspective. Miss Chang is notable only for her dubious skill in Quidditch. Her family is not from Great Britain, they have no ties here. They are half-blood, and Chinese. This means that when they accept that Voldemort is back, they will probably choose to flee the country. Miss Chang, being an obedient daughter, would follow. Harry Potter’s heart would break. I’m trying to spare him the pain.” He shrugged. “Miss Weasley, on the other hand, is both intelligent and courageous. Her family is dedicated to the fight against Voldemort, and because they are merely blood traitors, Death Eaters will be under orders to capture not kill. Miss Weasley is younger than Harry, and according to both your reports and Molly Weasley’s she is quite in love with the boy.”

Hermione felt like bursting into tears. “Then did you have excellent reasons for why Viktor and I were never meant to be?” It still ached sometimes, knowing she had given up the one chance she had ever had at a romantic relationship.

“Of course I did, my dear,” Dumbledore said gently. “Are you not happy, now?” He shook his head sorrowfully. “I did try to tell Severus, when we chose you, that it would not be a life for a young girl. But I had hoped-“

“Girl or not, my life is my life and I shall live it,” Hermione interrupted, cold anger in her voice.  _ I can’t let him find out about my feelings for Severus. _ “Do you have any other instructions for me?”

Dumbledore sat back down. “Harry is angry. Try to calm his anger. Perhaps you should begin to teach him some calming Occlumency exercises.” He nodded at her. “You may go, Miss Granger.”

* * *

Severus was expecting Hermione. Umbridge’s speech was utterly ridiculous, and she would want to discuss it with him as soon as the boys were in bed.

He glanced at the clock again as it neared ten. It wasn’t curfew yet, so he had some time before she would come. Time to sort things out in his head.

When he had been laying on the floor at Spinner’s End, deposited there by Lucius, he had called her. He made a mental note to thank his old friend later; the head of the Malfoy family had been facing the Dark Lord’s displeasure by aiding Severus. Should the Dark Lord discover that Lucius had taken his battered body to his house, Lucius would have been subjected to a manner of torturous curses.

He had been bleeding, inside and out, on the rug, listening to his heartbeat shallowly as a way of distracting himself from the pain. He knew from experience he would pass out from the pain in a few minutes- he was trying to figure out how to get from the parlor to the bookcase shelves and up to his bedroom before that happened. It was only when he had shifted to try and levitate himself when he felt the round hardness of his pocket watch in his breast pocket.

_ Hermione, _ he thought. He barely had enough strength to Summon the watch and his wand to his hand, and tap the spider’s web, channelling his pain and fear of death into the call.

And then he passed out.

He didn’t remember her discovering him, but he had drifted in and out of consciousness as she cleaned his wounds, and once when she was floating him up the stairs. Slowly, the pain lessened until it was bearable. And then she spooned something into his mouth and he was out again.

His first reaction upon waking was embarrassment. This girl- no, this young woman- had seen him nearly naked and in a position of utter helplessness. He had not been as close to death as he had originally thought, but he had been close enough. Severus Snape was a private man- he had only barely become accustomed to her seeing him in only his slacks and buttons downs and this felt like an invasion of privacy.

Or it would have felt like an invasion of privacy with just about any other person.

Somehow, with Hermione it was okay. Truthfully, he had been more unsettled by the fact he wasn’t completely panicking. Hermione was safe, she was a known quantity. But more to the point, he trusted her.

And Severus Snape did not trust many people. Let alone teenaged girls.

But she didn’t act like a teenager- she acted like a serious woman. A woman who knew the right and wrong in her world, and was well aware of the grey too. A woman who would fight for those she loved and against those who threatened her or her allies. A woman who was slowly worming her way under his well-built and not entirely false façade.

He couldn’t remember the last time she had truly annoyed him or made him want to wince at her immaturity. He could, however, remember the last time she made him laugh, mainly because it was happening more and more frequently. He could remember times that she frankly astounded him with her intuitive genius, or genuine caring, or glorious ruthlessness. It was a struggle to recall a time where he was feeling angry or derisive toward her.

The fellow genius in him revelled in her mind, enjoying their banter and discussions. The boy that had edited his textbook for fun was positively entranced by her.

And the boy that had been carelessly shoved aside time and time again was equally as entranced by her heart. When she protested unfair treatment or mourned another dead body, one part of him wanted to snap at her for Gryffindor sentimentality and the other wondered about how much love she was capable of. If she could extend her worries toward the treatment of house-elves and her tears toward someone she didn’t know, could she possibly care about him? Could she worry about him? Would she cry over his body?

He suspected the answer was yes, and that made a little flicker of joy appear under his ribcage.

Hermione was a type of contradiction as well- she had the largest heart he had ever seen, but she could become a whirlwind of dangerous, lethal beauty in an instant. Gods, she was a vision with a knife in one hand and her wand in the other. She had been developing her body since early pubescence, and the ease in which she could extend her limbs and power she could use showed it. She had no qualms about using her formidable repertoire of spells (some of his own invention) and her equally formidable athletics training to defend herself or others.

Severus was well aware of the darkness inside of himself- the secret soul buried (not so buried) that loved the Dark Arts, the essence that rose up and took over when he whispered deadly incantations and evoked beings no man had any business evoking. He had arrived at Hogwarts knowing more about the Dark Arts than most, if not all, of the fools taking their O.W.L.s.

His grandparents had died when he was seven, leaving his mother with a Dark Arts library not much smaller than the Black’s. His weary, hollow mother had stashed them all in the attic, in easy reach of a young boy who wanted to know as much as he could about the world of magic. Those books had called to his soul, sinking the sharp hooks early and fast, hooks that remained there even now.

He honestly loved the Dark Arts; he loved the way the magic rushed through him with hardly any prompting, he loved the intelligence in the quiet seduction of the darkest magicks, he loved the power that the hushed and secret incantations gave him. The Darkness that had been growing inside of him since childhood revelled in the beauty of the Dark Arts: they were unfixed, mutating, indestructible. In his mind, he had often visualized it like one the monsters that Hercules had faced.

As soon as one head was removed, two more sprouted. The Dark Arts were easy to manipulate, giving the welder a false sense of power. They were also quick to turn on the caster, if they weren’t faster. Dark Magic could only be borrowed and channelled, never completely dominated.

His appreciation for the Dark Arts had faded and then flagged when he finally felt the horrors they could wreck on humanity- but he had never truly lost it. The temptation was always there, hovering in the background. It was stronger when he was angry or scared- so he fought hard to control those emotions.

And then came Hermione, who completely appealed to the Darkness within him. She was perfectly innocent and pliable one minute, and in a complete fury the next- but only if she had a reason. She could be deadly and beautiful at the same time, a complex mix of that which was mortal and that which was fey and completely foreign. Always thinking, always one step ahead, always looking for a way to win an advantage. There was something in there he could admire completely.

She was a person could both shed tears at the untimely death of a hippogriff, and kill a man without blinking. Until later, that was. That was where her true feelings came to the forefront- when Hermione would weep and blame herself and feel endless remorse. And then she would piece herself together and continue. He was constantly in awe of the way she could be both emotional and heartless, ruthless and then remorseful.

She couldn’t be more perfect.

And that scared the hell out of him.

He had realized this in the past, of course, and had managed to brush it away by telling himself it was simply a teacher’s pride in his student, the closeness between mentor and protégé. But lately, her own voice in his head had been reprimanding him.

” _ I’ll be turning seventeen in a month or so.” _

“ _ Krum is seventeen, and I am seventeen.” _

“ _ I’m a grown woman now- I have enough sense to know that you’re not going to hurt me.” _

She was always reminding him that she was an adult- she pointedly called him his given name and insisted that he do the same. As much as he had opposed it at first, he liked it now. Hermione. Different, like her. Special, also like her.

Special to him.

He didn’t particularly mind that she had helped him- the man who normally refused all aid. He didn’t mind her fingers running through his hair- the man who normally avoided all touch. Actually, he didn’t mind her at all- at times he craved her presence. Like when he wanted to rant. Or when he made a rather brilliant deduction and felt like sharing it with someone who would actually understand how brilliant it was. Or when he was in a murderous rage and knew theoretically he needed to calm down.

If he wanted to face it or not, he knew that she  _ knew _ him. He could send her a look and she could read it- hell, she could identify the tiniest flicker of emotion in his face and react accordingly. So many people called him emotionless, said that he was unreadable- but she could read him like a book.

_ So what if I admire her, _ Severus thought scathingly.  _ So what. Nothing could come of it. _

Sometimes, when he was alone and lonely, he would suddenly remember the feel of her collarbones under his fingers, or the silky warmth of her skin under his hand, or the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist when her robes or shirt stretched tight. Or the time he burned her and she was only in her bra-

_ Stop it, you disgusting old man _ , he thought, horror tingeing his thoughts.  _ She’s a child she’s- _

_ She’s eighteen. Legal in both the Magical World and the Muggle one. She’s an adult, now. She can make the choices of an adult, she acts like an adult, and she can feel like an adult. _

And therein lay his problem. Severus Snape was an honorable man- if she was underage, she was underage and he could firmly halt any thoughts that might be ‘wrong.’ But as soon as it wasn’t wrong, as soon as he no longer had an airtight excuse, his mind felt free to roam.

_ She’s your student, _ another part of his mind reminded him.  _ She’s been entrusted to your care. You are supposed to educate her, not try to- _

_ To what? _

_ Try to get into her knickers. _

_ What about her heart? _

_ That too. _

_ Why not? _

_ Because. _

_ Because why? _

_ For heaven’s sake, you sound like a toddler. _

_ I’m being serious. Why not? I’ve taught her just about all I can. She doesn’t need my tutoring anymore. _

_ She’s still a student at Hogwarts. _

_ Fuck Hogwarts. _

_ That’s what I’m telling you  _ not _ to do. Don’t you understand me? _

_ I am you. _

_ You’re arguing with yourself- you are certifiably nuts. She wouldn’t even want you. _

_ So what’s the harm in dreaming? _

_ Hope hurts. You know that as well as I do. _

_ Because I’m you. I know. _

_ You’re being ridiculous. _

_ What if she did want me? _

His mind stilled, then exploded.

There was no way a girl like Hermione would ever want him. He was old, he was damaged goods, he was probably more than half-crazy by now. He was a bitter old man with no future. He would probably die before the war was over.

And more to the point, if he believed she was vain enough to care about such things, he was nothing to look at. His nose, his hair, his teeth. Hell, his temper, even. He had an awful temper.

_ She’s never cared about your temper before. She laughs when you’re mad. _

There was no way she would want him. She would probably end up with Potter or Weasley when all was said and done.

_ She’s too much like you, now. What makes you think that one of those idiots will be able to see past what she can do and love her as she deserves? _

They would never be able to accept Hermione for who she was. No one would- she was special, unique, and no one else would be able to realize it as he could. He was the one who had shaped her entire transformation, who had been there every step of the way, guiding and transforming her-

_ Who says that you could do any better? You are incapable of love. You killed the last woman you thought you loved. _

That was his fate, he had accepted it long ago. He had sworn never to love again, he had wept his last bitter tears when Lily died. Of course, then he hadn’t known he hadn’t really love Lily. He had been infatuated with her- there was a difference. But Hermione-

A knock at the door. He cleared his throat and rasped, “Enter.”

She slipped in, an angry light her in her eyes. “Dumbledore wanted to see me.” If he wasn’t mistaken, he saw burning anger in her face as she spoke. But as soon as it appeared it was gone, and she was controlled again. O rather, her anger had shifted. “But that’s not important- the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts,” she growled. “What are we going to do about it?”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What can we do about it?” he asked, shrugging. “Suggestions?” He gestured to the chair in front of him and she took it.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “She’s out to prove that Harry’s a nutter and Dumbledore is senile. The Minster is paranoid about Dumbledore’s influence on this generation- he’s going to want her to undermine him and potentially hurt our understanding of the Dark Arts. Fudge is scared that Dumbledore is going to attack him using Hogwarts students- he wants our Defense lessons to be either meaningless, or completely wrong.”

“Well said,” he told her. “The only thing I’d have to add is that she wants to sow dissension between the students and Harry, the students and Dumbledore, and Dumbledore and the other Professors. And she’ll want to do something about Hagrid.”

“That bitch,” Hermione gasped. “I should have remembered. She’s very anti-half-breeds which includes werewolves and centaurs and half-giants like Hagrid.”

Severus nodded. “Which was one reason Dumbledore wasn’t too eager for Hagrid to return before the start of the term.”

She nodded absentmindedly, tugging at a curl. He looked at her- he could feel she had something to say. “What is it?” he asked.

“Harry,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation. “He is roaring for a fight, he’s mad and he’s careless when he’s angry. He lets his temper get the best of him, and Umbridge is going to try and use that.”

Severus regarded her with hooded eyes. “Then caution him and try and diffuse his anger,” he advised. “But I’m honestly more worried about you.”

There was something in the brown eyes that turned on him, and he ached to delve inside her mind with Legilimency. “Pardon?”

“She’s high up in the Ministry,” Severus explained. “She’ll have heard Potter’s story. She’ll also know that you were there as well. She’ll try and pull you into it. Dumbledore exercised most of his diminished influence to keep your name out of the papers- up until now, you’ve merely been an unnamed student. Few of the students here know for sure you were there. There was confusion, and then Fawkes arrived and almost no one saw you. No one was paying attention to who was or was not in classes, and it could have very easily been assumed that you were with Harry in Hospital Wing instead of the other way around. It’s not a state secret, but it isn’t widely known either.”

It was dawning on Hermione. “So she’s going to tell everyone it was me with him,” she figured, and Severus could almost feel the sinking feeling he knew she was experiencing by the look on his face. “She’s going to call me out in a public place and ask me why I was there and how I knew. And then she’s going to use anything I say against us.”

“Exactly. What do you want to do about this?” He had a few ideas, but he wanted to hear hers first.

She took a while to mull through her options- she was thinking hard and fast and he could see it in her face. “I think we need to tell the story first,” she said after a while. “We can use Rita. And if  _ The Daily Prophet _ refuses to publish it, I now have a contact for  _ The Quibbler _ .”

Severus stared at her incredulously. “How on earth did you manage that?” he asked, shaking his head quickly and allowing a few strands of hair to fall into his face. “Since this morning?”

“Luna Lovegood,” she replied with a smug little smirk. “Bonded with her on the carriage ride. I’m sure if I asked her to do it she would give the article to her father.”

“It’s something to consider,” Severus conceded. “But we also need to consider the reputation of the paper used to publish. And the dangers of coming out with something big like that. What else?”

She took a few more moments to think. “I could either suck up to her, or intimidate her. Offer to get her insider information on Harry in order to undermine him, or threaten her so she’ll comply.”

Severus shook his head again. “She’s not going to fall for it, if you try to suck up or offer to spy,” he said. “Oh, wipe that affronted look off your face. I have complete faith in your acting skills. It’s just that Umbridge is canny and she’d rather oust you than use you. I’m not sure how effective threatening her would be.”

“Do we even want to repress that information?” Hermione asked, a thoughtful look on her weary face. “I mean, the Ministry’s mudslinging has pretty much had its desired effect. Harry and Dumbledore are persona non grata everywhere and completely discredited. What’s a little more? It’ll put me on the radar, and I’m already known to the Death Eaters because of my stunts in the graveyard. We could use the revelation to our advantage.”

Interesting. He hadn’t thought about using it. “Elaborate,” he ordered.

Hermione grinned at him, and did just that. “I have a certain reputation among the students,” she stated, shrugging at the eyebrow he raised. “Shove off, Severus, you know it’s true. Like you said, I’m the resident know-it-all. I’m a swot who always tells the truth and sticks to the rules. I have a bit more believability than Dumbledore- everyone thought he was crazy before this. And Harry has always been a bit of an outcast at the school- remember how everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin three years ago?”

“So you’re saying that they’ll believe you? Over a respected and revered wizard and a boy hero?” Severus said, affected disdain dripping in his tone.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “No,” she said smartly. “I’d only make them think about it a bit. And make them think that Harry and Dumbledore are both more respectable than I am. And I’m pretty damn respectable.” She winked, then giggled. “Sorry. But it’s not like I’m a two-pound tart. I’m top of my class here at Hogwarts.”

“And if you listen to the werewolf talk, you’re the ‘brightest witch of your age’” drawled Severus. “Two-pound tart? Honestly, Hermione. You sound like our lovely Nymphadora sometimes.”

She shook her head. “I do try. What do you think I should do?” She looked up at him, waiting for an answer. Then, just as he was about to say something, she lit up. “What if we made it into an underground movement type thing? The woman’s awful, it won’t be long until everyone hates her. We make Harry and me into martyrs, almost. Then when Voldemort finally reveals himself, we look even better. But for now, be silent and strong in the face of adversity, until everyone hates her enough. Then when she does something appropriately awful, Harry and I tell our story. They will rally around him- this gives Harry the chance to practice some leadership skills. I’m sure I could get him to teach us a proper Defense class- instead of the drivel she’s going to be teaching. I mean, did you see the textbook? It’s awful!”

Severus sat back- if he was a normal man he’d be gaping at her. “I think it’s brilliant,” he said after a moment. She flushed from the warm praise- he didn’t praise often. “Hermione, it’s brilliant. If they can rally around Potter, that gives him a solid base of allies. If the students learn some defensive spells at the same time, that’s almost like a bonus.”

She positively beamed at him. “The only hard part will be convincing Harry. But I should be able to do that without much of a problem. Much.” Her smile dimmed. “We’ll see.”

“We shall indeed,” Severus said with a sigh. “You should get to bed, Hermione. It’s late.” Then, surprising even himself, he rose to open the door for her. “Goodnight.”

Hermione looked up at him, whiskey eyes wide. “Goodnight,” she said, voice almost a whisper. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, she was gone.

* * *

As soon as she woke up in the morning, Hermione could tell the day would not end well. First of all, Harry was in an awful mood- shifting quickly from sullen to furious and back to a sulky rage. And then there was the Twins' notice on the board- advertising for human guinea pigs once again.

She had noticed Harry’s mood as soon as she walked in the room- she strode over to where he and Ron were standing moodily. “Good morning,” she said warily. “What’s the matter?”

When Harry didn’t answer, Ron spoke up. “Seamus reckons Harry’s lying about You-Know-Who.”

“Yes, Lavender thinks so too,” she said under her breath.  _ Lavender, Seamus, and maybe even Dean since the two of them are close. This isn’t good. _

Harry glared at her sullenly. “Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I’m a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?” he asked loudly.

She met his eye calmly. “No. I reminded her that it was better for people to suspect she was an idiot than for her to open her mouth and confirm it. Then I told her if she couldn’t refrain from talking about it, to talk about me instead since I was there too. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry because if you haven’t noticed, we’re on your side.”

Both of the boys gaped at her- then looked at Lavender who noticed, flushed and looked away. “Sorry, ‘Mione,” Harry said in a low voice.

“That’s quite all right,” she said, putting a hand on Harry’s arm. Ron gave her a look, but she ignored him. “Do you remember what Dumbledore said last year? About the Dark Lord? ‘His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust-’”

“How do you remember that?” Ron asked incredulously. “Word for bloody word?”

She gave him a scathing glance. “I listen, Ron,” she said impatiently. “What I was saying is that we need to stand together, to be united. The Dark Lord is hiding in the shadows to divide us- those who know and those who don’t believe. He wants to divide us because he fears us. We need to stand together and stand united.”

Ron opened his mouth, and she held up a warning hand. “I’m not talking about inter-House unity, yet. For now, I’m talking about intra-House unity. If even the Gryffindors can’t stand together, then we really are doomed.”

Breakfast was an exercise in control- they received their schedules and Hermione wanted to moan and bang her head on a few things. History, Potions, Ancient Runes, Divination and then, Defense. Umbridge, first day back. And then Ancient Runes and Divination were at the same time, so she would have to choose which she wanted to take this first time through.

She had finally decided on Ancient Runes when Fred and George came in. She had a healthy respect for the Twins- they had come up with several useful inventions. However, they had also invented several things that annoyed her greatly.

It was only later, when she and Harry and Ron were walking in the halls, that Harry’s mood seemed to lift a bit. “D’you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?” Harry asked, green eyes flicking between Ron and Hermione.

Ron quickly admitted that he wanted to be an Auror, but Hermione stayed silent.

“C’mon, Mione. You’ve had to have thought about it. I mean, you try so hard in everything. Why bother if you don’t have a plan?” Ron said, nudging her in the side. “Out with it!”

Her throat seemed to swell. How was she supposed to tell two innocent boys that she didn’t expect to make it out of the war alive? “I-“ she couldn’t finish and looked away. “I’ve never thought that far ahead.” It was a lie. She had, years ago. Years and years ago.

Harry seemed like he might have cottoned on, but Ron blathered on, oblivious. “Hermione! You’re always thinking ten years ahead. It can’t be that embarrassing.” He rolled his eyes at her.

“What’s your life plan, Hermione?” Harry asked again, slowing his pace to hers. “Hermione? What do you plan to do in the next few years?”

She cleared her throat. “Get my O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, hopefully. Help in whatever way I can against the Dark Lord. Make it out alive.” She shrugged, refusing to look at either of them. “After Voldemort is taken care of, I can think about it.”

Ron stayed silent and Harry tried to break the awkward moment. He gave her a sympathetic look, green eyes full of expression. “The first time I faced him, I didn’t know how I was supposed to do anything but plan for the next time,” Harry told her truthfully. “But it helps, to think ahead. Isn’t there some job you’d want? Like a doctor?”

“Why would she want to be a muggle doctor?” Ron asked, relieved. “Don’t they try and sew people? With thread?”

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “It’s called suturing, Ron,” she said, smirking. “I thought about that when I was younger. But I’d rather have a PhD than an MD. I think the equivalent in the Magical world is a Mastery.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked, confused.

Ron answered. “It’s a title showing that you have mastered a magical art. You can get them in anything, really. Transfiguration Masteries are the most common in Britain. McGonagall has one. There are a few people with Charms Masteries, and others with stuff like Ancient Runes or Arithmancy.”

“Professor Snape has a Potions Mastery,” Hermione said quietly. “He’s the only one in Great Britain.”

Ron nodded. “You have to be really smart to get one. And it takes years. You have to be apprenticed to a Master for a few years and then when they feel you’re ready, you face three tests. One is written, one is oral in front of a council of Masters, and the last one is a demonstration of your abilities.”

“Sounds like something you’d enjoy, Hermione,” Harry said with a grin. “Okay. Which subject? Transfiguration? Charms? Potions?”

Something tightened in her chest, at these two boys who cared so much about her. “I’ll see which one I do best in for my O.W.L.s,” she said finally, laughing a bit. “Come on, History’s about to start.”

After history Cho Chang approached them, eyes wide and dark. Hermione felt her stomach sink. “I just wanted to let you know that I believe you,” Cho said in a low, personal voice. “And Cedric does too.”

Harry, predictably, flushed a dark red. “So- um- are you- I mean- you and him- uh, Cedric- still together, um, then?” Hermione managed not to wince at the mess he made of the sentence. It was so obvious that he liked her, and all she could think about was Dumbledore's harsh words the night before.

“No,” Cho said brusquely. “He’s got a position as a Charms Apprentice in Switzerland.” She shrugged, sending a look to Hermione. “He was being nice, and all, letting me go.”

Suddenly, Hermione comprehended the kind of look Cho was sending her. She wanted Hermione to take Ron and leave, so she could ask Harry out in peace. Hermione’s eyes narrowed, looking at the Scottish girl. “That was nice of him,” she said, affecting a smile. She was about to do more when Ron did it for her.

“Is that a Tornado’s badge?” he demanded, pointing a sky blue badge with a double gold ‘T’ on Cho’s robes. “You don’t support them, do you?”

That particular fiasco finished quite nicely for Dumbledore’s agenda- she needed to report to Severus. She quite accordingly rounded on Ron for disrupting Cho Chang in her efforts to try and get Harry alone, thus putting herself ahead of Ron in Harry’s eyes. It was as funny as it was guilt racking- she had been about to do the same thing, but Ron beat her to it. The ensuing argument lasted until they reached the dungeons for Potions.

Hermione’s stomach fluttered when she heard the door creak, and if she had been less controlled she would have squirmed in her seat. It had been bad enough, going to see him the night before. He had seemed preoccupied with something- and similarly enough, so had she. But now-

Now Severus was moving gracefully and forcefully into the classroom, the door slamming shut behind him. “Settle down,” he said coldly, voice as sharp and frosty as broken glass on a January day. Power seeped from him- the class could subconsciously sense it from the moment he walked in and they behaved accordingly. The raw strength she could feel coming from him made something in the depths of her belly quiver, and her breath come a bit quicker. Hurriedly, Hermione clamped down on the feeling, shutting behinds as many walls as she could conjure in her mind.

He, like all their other teachers, reminded them that they would be taking the O.W.L. examination in Potions in June, and he did it with his usual disdain and biting comments. She let her mind wander for a bit before snapping her attention back to his voice. “Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an ‘acceptable’ in your O.W.L., or suffer my… displeasure.” The silky drawl drew another flutter from her stomach.

And then, in a moment that sent her heart racing, his eyes met hers- they were dark and menacing, appearing almost totally black in the dim light of the dungeons. She could see a trace of something in them- but what it was she couldn’t quite identify. That bothered her slightly. She couldn’t help but smile a little at his display of nonverbal magic as he put the instructions up on the board. The rest of the class didn’t notice or recognize the amount of discipline or concentration it took, but she did.

As Ron and Harry had predicted, the Draught of Peace was a horribly finicky potion, and as Snape called out what should be happening at various stages, Hermione let her mind drift. There was a subtle art to potion-making, and a kind of zone she could find herself in. It mostly happened when she was brewing with Severus, but somehow she found herself there again.

It was a potion she had made once before, so she wasn’t having all the problems that Harry was. When Severus passed in front of her cauldron, he gave her the tiniest of nods before moving on. She could have beamed at the praise- he couldn’t very well say anything in front of Malfoy, Crabbe or Goyle now that the Dark Lord had returned.

“Potter,” Snape said suddenly, peering down at Harry’s potion. “Stop. What is this supposed to be?”

The Slytherins looked up with anticipation- they watched with eager eyes, waiting for Snape to start taunting Harry. Hermione, however, had a sneaking suspicion that something wasn’t right. Harry glared up at Snape. “The Draught of Peace,” he said, voice taut.

“Tell me, Potter,” Snape said in his most dangerous voice- a quiet drawl that nonetheless travelled through the class. “Can you read?”

A laugh came from the vicinity of Draco Malfoy. Harry’s face tensed further. “Yes, I can,” he snapped.

“Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter,” Severus said, gesturing toward the board.

Harry squinted at the board, and Hermione’s heart raced as she read the third line silently as he read it aloud. “Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.”

Hermione’s heart sank- she hadn’t been paying attention. The Draught of Peace was a potion with many subtle quirks, a potion that required finesse and exactness. At several points in the creation, it turned poisonous, explosive, or just plain dangerous. And therefore, the person who was making the potion needed to neutralize the potion at several different stages. The syrup of hellebore was one of these stabilizers. And Harry had forgotten it.

“No,” Harry was saying. “I forgot the hellebore.”

She could see that Severus was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless.  _ Evanesco. _ ” He vanished the potion just as it was turning a poisonous blue color, which precipitated the explosion. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, flinching when Snape’s gaze turned upon her.

She had failed. She wasn’t watching Harry, she had been too concentrated on her own potion. And Snape had noticed.

As he passed them, she caught the look he gave her. It was different from the eyes she normally saw, angrier, more annoyed.

With a low heart, she joined Ron and Harry for lunch, desolately spooning shepherd’s pie into her plate. Of course, as soon as they had arrived Ron and Harry started in on Severus.

And she felt compelled to defend him. “I think Dumbledore’s probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn’t share it with you, Ron,” she snapped. Of course Severus was a Death Eater and he was working for the Dark Lord, but he was loyal to Dumbledore.

“Can’t you give it a rest?” Harry asked, anger darkening his eyes. “You’re always having a go at each other, it’s driving me mad.” He shoved away from the table and stormed off, leaving Ron and Hermione together.

The pair looked at each other. “Severus Snape is a man with plenty of secrets,” Hermione said in a low voice, looking directly into Ron’s eyes. “They are not ours to know. Dumbledore is perhaps the most brilliant mind the Wizarding World knows, and if he says that Professor Snape is on our side, then he is.”

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione shot him a warning glance and held up her hand. “Harry is important right now,” she continued. “He fits in here somehow, with defeating the Dark Lord. I could sense it, there, in the graveyard. So to his wishes, we are going to stop fighting. Agreed?”

With a nudging feeling of guilt, she slipped into his mind. There she could see him running through the consequences of disagreeing.  _ She would never help me with my homework again _ was the main thought.

“Agreed,” he said. “Let’s go.” She stood up with him, quietly sighing because her plan of taking Ancient Runes that day was in ruins. Divination the first time around it was.

Divination was as stuffy and warm as always. Hermione detested the class- she would have given it up in third-year if she didn’t have two very good reasons to continue taking it. One, if she stopped the class, that would be the only one she didn’t have with Harry. And two, if she gave up the class she gave up her Time Turner. And that was too valuable to even consider losing.

She and Ron sat down on either side of Harry. He refused to look at them.

Hermione rested a hand on his arm, tightening her grip until he looked at her. When he finally did, his green eyes were a tumult of anger and what may have been guilt. “Ron and I would appreciate it if you would stop taking your anger out on us,” she said quietly. “And while I understand that things are difficult right now, as I explained before, alienating the people who support you will do nothing.” When he dropped his gaze, she squeezed his arm again. “But then again, Ron and I decided to put an end to our… debates. For your peace of mind if not for ours.”

“Thanks,” Harry said gruffly.

Trelawney swooped in and began talking in a ‘mystic’ voice; Hermione relegated her lecture to the back of her mind until she registered the word ‘dream.’

When she called for partners to form, Hermione caught Harry’s eye and they agreed without saying a word. They didn’t want to share dreams with those who had never had a true nightmare.

“Mate,” Ron said, swivelling to join Harry. “We- oh.” His face darkened when he realized that Harry and Hermione would be working together. “Okay.” He clapped Neville on the shoulder and joined him instead.

With a quick swish of her wand and a whispered word, Hermione insured that no one would hear what she and Harry were saying. “Are you alright, Harry?”

“Yeah,” he said immediately, opening the book. “Do you want to start?” He wasn’t meeting her eye- he obviously wanted her to go first.

She hesitated, then shrugged. “Alright,” said Hermione. “I dreamed that we were back in the graveyard…”

_ It was cold and damp in the graveyard. Her shirt wasn’t doing anything about the chill, but she knew she was focusing on that to avoid the reality of the situation. She was on the ground and there were heavy dark forms around her. _

_ And there were Harry’s screams in the background. He was begging, she thought calmly. Begging for his life, begging for hers, screaming for someone to save them. _

_ She turned her head and stared at a large stone cross as she waited for him to stop screaming. They were over, done for. Her knives were gone, her wand was gone, and she was trussed up like a pig. _

_ The screams cut off abruptly, and she counted the seconds. One one hundred, two one hundred, three one hundred, four one hundred, five- and there they were again. This time it sounded like he was choking. _

_ Hermione was scared by her own apathy, She knew she was going to die, she knew Harry was going to die, it was done and over with. _

_ A sudden crack startled her and her head whipped around the other way. There was no mistaking the way he held his body, the arrogant tilt of his chin, the power in his stride. The way his robes billowed out around him. _

_ Before she could move or scream, Harry was gone, whirling away on a Portkey. She had been left behind, and it was just her and Severus and the Death Eaters. And, of course, the Dark Lord. _

“ _ Severusss,” he hissed. “Come to join us at last, traitor?” With one stroke of his wand and another hiss, Severus was dead. _

_ Voldemort laughed evilly, a sound that sent a rush of pure terror down her spine. “Harry Potter is gone, but we still have his little Mudblood. Who is up for some sport, my friends?” _

“I’m in the graveyard,” Hermione repeated. “And we are watching as Pettigrew is making the potion. But instead of using his hand, he comes for mine.” This was a different dream she had. It would do for now.

Harry is now watching her in horror. “Hermione-“

“He takes my hands and I can do nothing,” she continues, closing her eyes so she doesn’t need to see his. “And this time I can’t - I can’t get away or reach a weapon and I can do nothing while they kill you and take me.” She opens her eyes again. “So what does that tell you about my future?”

There is safety in the book. “The removal of the hands suggests that there is a situation in which you will feel helpless,” Harry recites dully, continuing with minimal prompting from her. Before long, her dream has been ‘analyzed’ to shreds and it’s his turn.

“What about the dream you had when you came to Headquarters that first night?” Hermione suggested.

Harry was immediately defensive. “It was simple. You died, he laughed, I died.”

The look she pinned him with made him sigh. “It was weird. I had been dreaming something different before, and then I was dreaming the graveyard dream.”

By now she was so practiced at this, Hermione didn’t have to work overly hard to conceal her excitement. Instead, she just allowed a little leak of curiosity to show. “Oh? What was that dream?”

Harry seemed reluctant to answer. “I dunno. I was walking and then I stopped at a door. I’ve been having it for a few weeks. But then I felt something like a snapping and a lull and then I was tied to the gravestone again. Voldemort was torturing you and he killed you. And you were doing the knife thing.”

Crap. They had never talked about how she had fought with knives, and she didn’t want to talk about it now. “Let’s start analyzing.” As they looked up various aspects of the dream in the text, Hermione let her mind wander to the night Harry had dreamed that, remembering her conversation with Severus. If the Dark Lord was really sending Harry those dreams, then they had a problem. She would have to see him later in the day.

The bell rang just as they finished the (admittedly ridiculous) dream analysis. Hermione gathered her things with a growing dread- next, they had double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Umbridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 13!
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading! Please leave some comments or kudos!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Welcome back! This chapter was beta'd by Sorasradust, wonderfully, as per usual.

_**Chapter 14** _

The students filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom cautiously- as was the habit on the first day by now. They didn’t yet know if this teacher would be like Lupin or- perhaps- like Snape. Therefore, it was best to approach the first day and first interactions carefully. Umbridge was an unknown quantity, and no one wished to risk her wrath before they knew how strict a disciplinarian she was.

Umbridge was seated at her desk, watching them with beady eyes as they found seats. The snooty girly-girl in Hermione shuddered at the horrendous fluffy pink cardigan, and black velvet bow the professor was wearing. The way the bow was perched and gleaming dully in the light from the wall scones made Hermione rather uncomfortably aware of Umbridge’s unfortunate resemblance to a toad with a large fly on its head.

“Well, good afternoon!” she said in a sickly sweet voice, clapping her hands together.

_ How old does she think we are? Five?  _ The few scattered replies made Umbridge’s little smile falter.

“Tut, tut.  _ That _ won’t do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”

Exchanging a few wondering glances, the class immediately chanted, “Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.”

The awful smile returned. “There, now,” she said sweetly. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.”  _ If anything, she’s polite, _ Hermione thought sarcastically, slipping her wand back into her holster. She had a bad feeling about this.

Umbridge’s own wand had produced the words, “Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles,” on the blackboard. She cleared her throat once, then began to speak. “Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted, hasn’t it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.”

The woman smirked maliciously, hands clasped in front of her. She continued speaking, but Hermione set a portion of her mind to record and analyze the speech while she considered her options.  _ Damn it. This is why I wanted to rest and prepare before encountering Madam Toad. _

“Has everybody got a copy of  _ Defensive Magical Theory  _ by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

“Yes, Professor Umbridge,” the class chorused, having learned from their mistake. Hermione frowned down at her book- it was dreadfully dull, and managed to say absolutely nothing in several long, verbose chapters. Severus had immediately dismissed it as complete drivel.

_ Now’s the time to show a little bit of disobedience. Start the ball rolling, so to speak. I can call her out on the book. And I’ve just noticed something not so surprising about her ‘course aims’. _

Hermione stared down at her book, took a breath, then raised her hand. She kept her face composed, not angry or upset, but calm.

Umbridge had seen her- their eyes met in an instant, too fast for Hermione to delve into her mind before she turned away, looking resolutely in another direction.

_ Bitch,  _ Hermione remarked calmly in her mind.  _ Now it’s personal. Unless I want to be ignored, I really don’t like being ignored. _

Hermione was proud of her fitness- she kept up her exercise routine religiously during school year and summer alike- but even her arm began to ache by the time Harry looked up and met her eyes. She shook her head at his questioning look, continuing to stare at Umbridge.

One by one, her classmates were leaving their boring chapter for her far more interesting struggle with Umbridge. Hermione could feel their eyes on her, something that made her almost as uncomfortable as Severus’ gaze had been the night before. It was a testament to how boring the book was that a girl sitting silently with her hand up was more interesting- although the fact that the girl was Hermione Granger may have had something to do with it.

The fifth-year students of Hogwarts (save her close friends) had never seen Hermione Granger rebel against any teacher. Now she was acting in mute defiance, book closed on her desk. Umbridge was playing right into Hermione’s hands- by refusing to acknowledge the Gryffindor, Umbridge was publicly losing the support of Hermione Granger, swot and teacher’s pet extraordinaire.

Hermione Granger was liked by teachers, and Hermione Granger liked teachers. Hermione Granger was not liked by Umbridge, and Hermione Granger did not like Umbridge. Therefore, Umbridge was not a teacher. It was simple, base logic that the students probably didn’t even know they were performing subconsciously.

When more than half the class was more focused on Hermione than on the textbook, Professor Umbridge seemed to realize that she could stall no longer. “Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” the woman asked with a little start of surprise as if she had just noticed Hermione.

“Not about the chapter, no,” said Hermione.

Umbridge’s expression faltered in its sweetness for an instant. “Well, we’re reading just now,” she said, smiling pointedly at Hermione. “If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.”

“I’ve got a query about your course aims,” Hermione said clearly, tossing back her heavy mane of curls, eyeing Umbridge with just a hint of defiance.

This surprised the teacher- she raised pallid little eyebrows in a moue of surprise. “And your name is…”

Hermione grinned sharply. “Hermione Granger,” she drawled, a twitch of her lips acknowledging the recognition that spread across Umbridge’s face before the Ministry witch clamped down on it.  _ That’s right. I’m the girl who spat at Voldemort and quite basically told him to take his scaly arse to hell. _

“Well,  _ Miss Granger _ , I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully,” Professor Umbridge said sweetly. Hermione could have almost imagined the emphasis on her name. There were a few titters in the rest of the class- Hermione not reading something carefully? Preposterous. Again, this lapse of judgment brought Umbridge down another notch in the collective subconscious.

Time for bluntness. “Well, I don’t. There’s nothing written up there about  _ using _ defensive spells.” There was a moment of silence as the class turned to check the class aims on the board.

_ Course aims: _

  1. _Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic._
  2. _Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used._
  3. _Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._



Umbridge giggled nervously. “ _ Using _ defensive spells? Why, I can’t imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to  _ use _ a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren’t expecting to be attacked during class?”

“We’re not going to use magic?” Ron half-shouted, outrage in his voice.

Umbridge turned her beady little eyes on him. “Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—“ she snapped.

“Weasley,” said Ron, thrusting his hand in the air.

With a smirk, Umbridge turned her back on him. Immediately, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and raised their own hands simultaneously. She couldn’t ignore all of them- the whole class was monitoring the situation carefully.

Although her pouchy eyes lingered a second too long on Harry, Umbridge addressed Hermione. “Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?”

Hermione smiled primly. “Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?” She knew that there was an authoritative ring to her voice that would make Umbridge bristle.

“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?” she asked in her false-sweet voice, obviously trying to sound harmless, dangerous, and in control at the same time. It didn’t work.

“No,” Hermione replied coolly.

“Well then, I’m afraid you’re not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-“

“What’s the use in that?” Harry interrupted loudly. “If we’re going to be attacked, it’s not going to be in a secure-“

“ _ Hand _ , Mr Potter!” sang Professor Umbridge. Harry scowled and thrust his hand in the air again, face darkening when Umbridge turned away yet again. This time, however, plenty of other students had their hands in the air.

Umbridge smiled at them, an expression Hermione was realizing was a tell for when the woman was mad or upset. She grinned herself- Umbridge was getting easier and easier to read. “And your name is?” Umbridge asked Dean.

“Dean Thomas.”

“Well, Mr Thomas?”

Dean bristled slightly. “ _ Well _ , it’s like Harry said, isn’t it? If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk-free-“

“I repeat,” said Professor Umbridge, her smile growing wider and more irritating, “Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?” Dean tried to say something, but she spoke over him. “I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed- not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds.”

“If you mean Professor Lupin,” Dean piped up angrily, “He was the best we ever-“

“ _ Hand, _ Mr Thomas! As I was saying- you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate for your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day-“

“No we haven’t,” Hermione interrupted, pitching her voice so that it carried over Umbridge’s. “We just-“

“ _ Your hand is not up, Miss Granger! _ ” Hermione put her hand up, and Umbridge turned away again. “It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them  _ on _ you-“

Dean spoke again. “Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn’t he? Mind you, we still learned loads from him-“

Umbridge seemed closer and closer to snapping. Hermione was feeling just the slightest bit wary of pushing her farther. Her suspicions were confirmed when Umbridge trilled, “ _ Your hand is not up, Mr Thomas _ !” very loudly.

She was breathing heavily, but continued to talk. “Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is all about.” That made Hermione angry- school was about more than getting an O on every test. It was about learning what you needed to learn for the future.

“And your name is?” Umbridge asked, sweet again, as Parvati’s hand shot up. Her nose, however, crinkled in disdain that Hermione read and interpreted (quite correctly) as Umbridge’s distaste for the color of Parvati’s skin. That made Hermione's blood boil- the girl could be silly sometimes, but Hermione had shared a dorm with her for five years and Parvati Patil was one of the nicest girls Hermione had ever met.

“Parvati Patil, and isn’t there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Art’s O.W.L.? Aren’t we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter curses and things?” Hermione smiled tightly as Parvati asked the same question she had wanted to raise.

Umbridge shook her head dismissively. “As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions.”

“Without practising them before?” asked Parvati incredulously. Although it was her sister and not herself who was in Ravenclaw, Parvati shared some characteristics with her more studious and less bold twin. “Are you telling us that the first time we’ll get to do the spells will be during our exam? Under all that stress and pressure?”

Umbridge sneered slightly. “I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough-“

“And what good’s theory going to be in the real world?” asked Harry loudly, his fist in the air again. Hermione felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Harry’s face was flushed, and the line of his neck and shoulders tight. He was angry and ready to explode.

Professor Umbridge regarded him coolly. “This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world,” she said softly.

“So we’re not supposed to be prepared for what’s waiting out there?” Harry asked, a desperate tone to his voice.

“There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge repeated, in the same calm voice.

Harry glared. “Oh yeah?” he said disrespectfully. Hermione winced- his temper, which had been boiling all day, had reached boiling point.

Umbridge narrowed her eyes, and showed her pointy teeth again. She was setting something up, Hermione could tell. “Who do you imagine wants to attack  _ children _ like yourselves?” inquired the professor in a horribly honeyed voice.

Hermione jumped in, cutting a glance at Harry. “I’d say the obvious one, Professor Umbridge. Lord Voldemort.” There was hardly a hitch in her voice- but the rest of the classroom reacted violently. Ron gasped, Lavender Brown gave a pathetic, whimpering scream. Neville slipped sideways off his stool, falling to the ground with a thud.

Professor Umbridge did not flinch, staring at Hermione with a satisfied expression on her face. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger.”

The classroom was silent but loud with shock. Hermione Granger losing points in class? Unheard of. Everyone was staring at either Hermione or Umbridge.

The awful witch smiled grimly. “Now let me make a few things quite plain,” she stated, leaning toward them across the desk, spreading her stubby fingers across the worn wood. “You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead-“

“He wasn’t dead,” Harry interjected angrily. “But yeah, he’s returned!”

“Mr Potter, ten points from Gryffindor. Your housemate has already lost your house ten points  _ do not make matters worse _ ,” Umbridge said in one breath, not looking at him. “As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark Wizard is at large again.  _ This is a lie. _ ”

“It is NOT a lie!” Harry shouted. “I saw him, I fought him!”

“Detention, Mr Potter!” cried Professor Umbridge triumphantly. “Tomorrow evening, five o’clock, my office. I repeat:  _ this is a lie. _ The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark Wizard. If you are still worried, by all means, come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark Wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now-“

“And now you’ve just given us the largest pile of dragon shite I’ve ever heard in this classroom,” Hermione said insolently. “And in our second year, we had Gilderoy Lockhart as a teacher.”

Now gasps echoed around the classroom. Hermione stood calmly, look Umbridge right in the eye. “Now, if Voldemort- oh, stop it it’s just a name- isn’t alive and kicking, who was at the Graveyard with Harry and me? Who tortured me until I could hardly move? Who cursed me as we were escaping and kept me in the Hospital Wing for days?”

Thirty eagerly listening faces were turned up at Hermione, craving gossip about what had happened in the graveyard. “Would you like to see my scars, Professor?” Hermione asked dangerously. “Lord Voldemort is back and you know it.”

“Detention for you as well, Miss Granger,” Umbridge hissed. “Same time as Mr Potter. Both you, come up to my desk.”

Hermione slid out from behind her desk with the grace of a cat, whilst Harry kicked his chair aside with a loud noise, skirting around Ron with an angry stride. Their eyes met, and he took a shuddering breath.

Umbridge had taken out a small roll of pink parchment, writing something on it and tapping it closed with her unusually short wand. “Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,” she simpered, the light of victory cold in her eyes.

Hermione took it from her without a word, turning on her heel and gliding out of the classroom, barely noticing when Harry slammed the door behind them.

With his longer legs, he quickly caught up with her. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said, genuine worry in his eyes. “I-“

Hermione shook her head. “The Wizarding World needs to know what happened that night,” she said quietly, fiercely. “Professor Umbridge is the symbol of the Ministry and all its lying propaganda at Hogwarts. We oppose her, we oppose them and their stubborn refusal to see the truth.”

“But you’ve got detention…” Harry said, a bit confused. “Why are you not freaking out?”

_ Oh, Harry. You are so, so clueless. _

“There are things more important than detentions,” Hermione told him, laying a hand on his arm. “Harry, I would suffer through a thousand detentions with Professor Snape if it meant knowing people realize that Voldemort is back.”  _ Although it wouldn’t exactly be suffering… _

Harry’s eyes were burning as he looked into hers. “I hate her already,” he whispered.

“I do too,” Hermione whispered back. “Now. Come one. We need to get this to Professor McGonagall.”

* * *

Harry and Hermione were sitting, trying very hard not to squirm under the hard gaze of Professor McGonagall. Hermione had half-feared that she would erupt with her infamous temper; rather, the Scottish witch had tersely offered them biscuits.

“Potter, Granger, I expected better out of both of you.” The part of Hermione that always craved the approval of adults, cringed. Hermione kept her face straight, munching on a ginger newt.

McGonagall continued to lecture, but Hermione zoned out- she was more focused on analyzing what had happened in Umbridge’s class.

She- and Harry- had done plenty of good in discrediting Professor Dolores Umbridge as a teacher. With the help of Dean and Parvati, they had ripped apart her phoney course aims, and the proceeded to demonstrate how unlike any other teacher she was.

Hermione was satisfied- and wonder what Severus would think.

“Miss Granger, are you paying any attention to me at all?” Professor McGonagall snapped.

Hermione blinked and sat straighter. “Of course, Professor,” she said innocently. “You just told us that this isn’t about truth or lies, it’s about keeping our mouths shut and our tempers under control.” Her eyes met McGonagall’s and hardened.

The Transfiguration professor sighed. “Quite right, Miss Granger. Mr Potter, please go wait outside. I need to talk to Miss Granger alone.”

With a questioning glance, Harry stood and left the room. As soon as he was gone Hermione sagged a bit in her chair, rubbing her eyes with one hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her Glamour. It was time to regain a bit of authority with McGonagall.

When Hermione uncovered her face, McGonagall’s quick intake of breath was audible. “You look like you’ve just aged two years in front of me,” she remarked wryly. “How are you holding up, Hermione?”

Hermione gave a grim smile. “Alright. Professor Umbridge is a pain in the neck. But Severus and I have a plan for taking care of her.”

Professor McGonagall frowned. “Take care of her?” she asked questioningly. She had “accidentally” seen Hermione practising with her knives at Safe House Three over the summer. It hadn’t been an accident at all- Hermione and Severus wanted to make sure that McGonagall realized that Hermione was capable of protecting Harry, and therefore trust her decisions.

“Nothing on that level yet,” said Hermione, allowing a slightly cruel smile to spread across her face as she nodded at her professor. “Actually, as irritating as she is now and is going to get, she’s useful.”

“How so?” McGonagall asked. It struck Hermione at that moment how old Professor McGonagall was. Her skin was frail and papery, wrinkles almost as deep as Dumbledore’s. Witches aged well- Professor McGonagall was probably in her nineties and nearing her hundreds. Dumbledore was one hundred and fourteen years old- they had been leading the side of Light for a long time.

Hermione cleared her throat. “We set her up as a figurehead for opposition. If we start an ‘underground’ movement and rebellion against Umbridge, we can set up a base of allies for Harry. An idea I was playing around with was having him lead a Defense club- but with Umbridge, I doubt we could get official permission. But again, we make it clandestine and forge bonds of loyalty through secrecy. The more Harry- and I- oppose Umbridge, the closer we get to creating a pool of students who believe Harry and know real defensive spells.” Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t suppose Dumbledore told you our plan?”

“No, he didn’t,” McGonagall said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “The old goat. It sounds like a brilliant, if a somewhat dangerous plan, Hermione. What can I do to help?”

Hermione leaned back in her chair and considered the question for a moment. “I wanted to get the teachers involved, but I figured it would happen on its own eventually. When things get worse- and a contact at the Ministry is promising things will get worse soon- do your best to subtly encourage the students in their rebellion.”

“I’ll do what I can,” McGonagall promised. “Now I believe you have dinner to get to.”

Hermione rose, and reapplied the Glamour. “I’m going to do my best to keep Harry calm,” she reassured McGonagall. “Because if he gets too angry he will either lose his head, or try something I’m not sure I can stop. Thanks for the biscuits.”

* * *

Dinner was slightly tense, Harry, Hermione, and Ron eating together at the far end of the table and ignoring those around them who were either gossiping about class or trying to listen in on the conversation. The trio ate quickly and hurried back to the Common Room.

There, Fred and George were testing their products on the first years again- with a huff of frustration Hermione stalked over and ended it, managing to sneak a few Fainting Fancies into her sleeve when she took the bag from George. After threatening to owl their mother, she stomped back to Ron and Harry. It wasn’t long before she declared herself unable to concentrate and ascended the stairs to the Girls’ Dormitory.

Usually, Hermione would spin back to the morning and go straight to bed. But tonight, Hermione wanted to talk to Severus before turning back. She waited until she could see a shimmer leaning against the wall near Harry and Ron, then excused herself to go to bed.

Lavender and Parvati were in the room, talking. When Hermione entered, they looked up.

“Hermione?” Lavender’s soft high voice was hesitant and shaky. “I’m sorry about this morning. Really. I- I wasn’t thinking.”

Hermione sat down on her bed, and leaned over, covering her eyes with her hands as if she was holding back tears. Immediately, Lavender and Parvati were next her.

“I’m sorry was I snappy this morning,” Hermione apologized. “It’s- just-” she heaved a sigh of frustration, and looked Lavender right in the other girl’s big blue eyes. “You don’t know how terrifying it is to know that Lord- that  _ monster _ is back and no one is doing anything about it,” said Hermione fiercely. “I looked into his eyes, I saw how evil he was. He would have killed me in an instant if Harry hadn’t stepped in.”

She turned her head to look at Parvati. “Professor Umbridge is trying to hold back the truth. The Ministry is trying to discredit Harry. Everything is going wrong.”

“We believe you, Hermione,” Parvati said, squeezing Hermione’s hand. “I’m going to write to my family. Tell them to watch out.”

“Me too,” Lavender promised. “Although I don’t think my mum will believe me.”

Hermione smiled weakly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Goodnight.” She debated dressing for bed in a way that would let them see her scar but decided against it. It would happen eventually with the close quarters the three girls shared.

It was almost midnight when Parvati’s breathing evened out and Lavender started snoring.  _ Finally. _ Hermione slipped her robe over her pyjamas and cast a Disillusionment charm. She crept from the room, easing the door shut to avoid waking up Lavender or Parvati. Even if they did wake, the Hermione shaped illusion under the covers would fool them.

The Fat Lady painting swung outward, then back, but she was used to Hermione’s comings and goings and it only took a whispered “Hello,” to calm her. Then Hermione was on her way to the dungeons.

A sliver of yellow light was spilling from Severus’ office when she arrived. Hermione knocked twice on the door, then opened it and ducked in.

From his desk, Severus inclined his head. “Good evening,” he said as a quiet greeting. His eyes were solemn in his pale face, regarding her with their usual intensity. “What took so long?”

Hermione cancelled the charm and her Glamour, shaking out her hair. “I got caught by Parvati and Lavender and had to sit through their apologies. What have you heard so far?” She cocked her head, and frowned. “It might be best if we do this elsewhere.”

Severus nodded, rising in one fluid motion. “I agree. Would you like some tea?”

“I would love some,” Hermione said, giving him a genuine smile. “I’m feeling dangerously sleepy.”

The Potions Master strode the back of the room, pressing his palm to the stone and whispering the password. He gestured that she go first, and with a vague shiver of  _ something _ running down her spine, Hermione entered the set of false chambers.

The Potions cabinet was the same, Severus holding open the door and waving her through. Hermione wondered for a moment if something was going on, but his eyes were as dark and emotionless as ever, so she dismissed it.  _ Foolish daydreams of a foolish girl. _

She settled into the same armchair she had used the time before, gratefully accepting the warm mug of tea when Severus offered it. He sat across from her, long fingers wrapped around his own mug. There were no dainty teacups for Severus Snape- instead, he used sturdy mugs that could hold a decent amount of liquid.

“So…” Hermione drawled. “I misbehaved today.” She smirked at Severus, who had stiffened for some reason. “Gave the Gryffindors a surprise, that’s for sure.”

Severus coughed and took a sip of tea. “According to the staff room gossip, both you and Potter put on quite a show for the class.” There was a dryness to his voice. His long fingers tapped out a slow rhythm on the arm of his chair.

Hermione smiled slowly, teeth glinting dangerously in the light from the fireplace. “It was lovely,” she drawled. “We riled her up quite a bit. As a result, Harry and I have detention tomorrow.”

“I can surmise that the first step of our plan is coming to its middle?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. “We didn’t spend enough time outlining this last night. I suggest we do so now.”

Against her will, Hermione’s mouth stretched in a yawn. “Sure,” she said, blinking a few times. “Let’s get some parchment and a quill.” Severus rose to fetch the required items, and Hermione moved to the sofa, patting the seat next to her when he returned. “We need to be able to see what the other’s doing,” she said by way of explanation.

He sighed and set the materials down. “I’m writing,” he said sternly. “You’d take all night organizing everything.” He sat next to her and started fiddling with the parchment and ink, getting comfortable.

_ Of course, it has nothing to do with the way he looks right now, shrugging off his teaching robes, or the fact that he’s going to be close enough to smell and to feel the warmth of his skin. His arms look so strong- I knew that, he can lift me- but with is sleeves rolled up- no. It has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing at all. _

Hermione ran her fingers over her scalp, pulling her masses of curls into a semblance of a bun to keep it out of her face. “Today I started with the tantalization. I mentioned what happened in the graveyard.”

Severus nodded sharply. “Good. The fact that it was you, should be all over the school by breakfast tomorrow.” He wrote it in his spiky hand on the page.  _ Drop hints about what happened at the graveyard. _

“I heard from one of my contacts at the Ministry that Dolores Umbridge will be made Hogwarts High Inquisitor in a few weeks,” Severus said gravely. “She will be given power that would be ludicrous normally. Making school decrees, firing teachers…”

Hermione took a minute to think about it. “As much as I hate to say it… this might be beneficial to our cause. If she makes several awful rules, it will turn the students against her that quicker. When do you think would be a good time to start our clandestine defense group?”

“Soon,” Severus said, a hand rising unconsciously to pinch the bridge of his nose. “How long do you think it will take to convince Potter?”

_ Well, Harry will need a trigger, but if I plant the information in his head now it will have time for him to consider it…  _ “A month. Maybe two,” Hermione admitted. “Sooner if something happens. I should mention it to him soon, give him time to think it over.”

Severus made note of it on their paper. “What else?”

“How far do you think the teachers will go to oppose Umbridge?” asked Hermione. “I gave McGonagall a brief description of what we were doing, and she promised to subtly help.”

It was clear that Severus was surprised. “And how did she take that?”

“Well enough,” Hermione said with a shrug, then paused, turning to look at Severus. “Do you- I played her. And I did it well. I-“ she stopped, unable to verbalize how she felt. She gazed at Severus pleadingly. “Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

The warmth that suddenly suffused his eyes made a little something twinge, a little flutter under her ribs. “Yes, Hermione,” he said, a kind of gentleness in his tone. “You feel guilty for manipulating someone.”

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” Hermione said, looking away. For some reason, whenever he could see right through her, she felt ashamed. “It’s what I’ve been preparing to do for the past few years. I did the same to Lavender and Parvati earlier and- it feels wrong.”

She could feel a tingling in her shoulder, and a second later a hesitant hand rested there. “It’s not silly, Hermione. It is completely natural to harbor feelings of guilt after manipulating people you respect or genuinely like. If you didn’t, I’d be worried that you would turn out like Dumbledore and take steps to remove you from positions of power. No one did that for him and look at the old goat now.”

His voice sounded divine, like the rich savoury-sweet of honey in the back of the throat. “Does he feel any guilt?” she asked.

“He used to,” Severus said bluntly. “Now… he’s gotten used to it. It still pains him when Order members die, but he no longer bends under the weight of their death and suffering. He’s removed himself from them. He rationalizes it away. He has to- he has no choice.”

Hermione looked at him, his mostly impassive face with caring eyes. The dearness of his face to her heart made her stomach clench in warning. “Then what do I do? Become like him?”

“No,” Severus said harshly. “In the moment you continue without pause. But later, in a safe place, in a safe time, you feel regret and guilt.”

Their eyes met.  _ It is so easy for me to lose myself in his eyes, _ Hermione thought.  _ It feels as if there is a shield around us, that we are the only two left on this earth. _ “Do you feel regret and guilt?” she asked, voice unintentionally dropping lower in pitch.

She didn’t know that her own eyes were just as mesmerizing to him, or that his breath hitched in his throat as his pulse rose.

His eyes darkened. “Yes,” he answered, unconsciously echoing her tone, voice dropping huskily. There was a flash of understanding in that moment, and Hermione could almost sense all the pain Severus had ever felt, all the sorrow and regret and gut-wrenching guilt.

All she wanted to do was take his head and cradle it against her chest, to hold him, to run her hands through his hair again-

And his hand left her shoulder and he turned away, back to the paper. “Potter will need to lead the group, but you will need to assist him in the background,” he said, tone normal again.

“Right,” Hermione said, brutally shoving all emotion down.  _ In a safe time, in a safe place, _ she reminded herself.  _ Not here. _

* * *

As the door closed behind Hermione, Severus frowned at the empty room. He should have felt relief that she was gone- no more curls to distract his attention, no more liquid brown eyes pulling candid confessions, no more pale skin alive with the rouges of firelight. And yet, he felt disappointed.

It had been entirely disconcerting, the feeling that occupied him when she was around. Not that it hadn’t been there before- but then he hadn’t recognized it for what it was. Now he knew that the surge of awe at her wit and the appreciation of her form were full of less-than-pure intent.

He glanced down at the abandoned plan, left on the coffee table. It was full of his spiky handwriting and her flowing script. About halfway through she had looked at him, sighed, and snatched the paper away, shoving at lines with the tip of her wand to reorganize it.

_ Even her bossiness is endearing, _ he thought.  _ Dear lord. Dumbledore would have my job and my head. If the Dark Lord knew that I- l- cared for a muggleborn chit of eighteen then he would make an example of us both. _

He sank back down on the sofa they had shared, instead of his favorite armchair, draping the part of his legs that were too long for the sofa over the arm rather than enlarging it. He could smell the soap she used, much fainter than when she had been there. He wondered what she would smell like if she used his shampoo. His soap. He felt a strange longing to know what it would be like to have her marked as his so subtly.

Roughly Severus dragged a hand over his face, rising in a frustrated motion. It was close to one in the morning- it was time to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 14.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> If you are craving some SSHG fluff, check out my new oneshot, The Times He Tells her. It is just pure established fluff - this story is definitely a slow (slow) burn, so check it out while you're waiting for more than just a hand on a shoulder and some longing glances!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Again, thank you to my wonderful beta, Sorasrardust! She has blown through and edited 3-4 chapters so that posting would not be interrupted by her vacation, so THANK YOU.

**_Chapter 15_ **

The next night (for everyone but Hermione at least- for her it had been far more than a day) dinner was eaten quickly to allow enough time for Harry and Hermione to make it to their detention.

In Hermione's opinion, the entire day had been rather awful. They had Charms and Transfiguration in the morning, which hadn't been so bad, but Harry and Ron both seemed to be in worsening moods. Hermione suspected they hadn't done a whit of homework the night before and were starting to regret it as essay after assignment after essay began to pile on them. The boys had spent their lunch period in the Library, leaving Hermione to eat alone at the end of the table. She pulled out a book on advanced biochemistry and potions and set to reading with her sandwiches.

Harry was worried about Hagrid- Hermione didn't know why Dumbledore didn't think it would be prudent just to  _ tell _ Harry where Hagrid was if just to stop the lout from poking around and making Hagrid's disappearance obvious. Hermione got a prickly feeling when Draco made a snide comment about Hagrid being caught up in a situation too "big" for him- it was very clear that Lucius Malfoy was giving his son information. Draco had expected Harry to catch the reference. Lucius- and probably the Dark Lord- thought that Harry knew more than he did.

She'd have to tell Severus later, and work out with him if it was a good or bad thing. Her head was aching too much right then to concentrate. At least both Luna and Ernie had publicly declared where they stood. That was one person from each House, excluding Slytherin. And even though Luna was a bit strange, Hermione was sure that she would be a valuable resource.

After a rather noisy and impetuous visit from Angelina, Harry and Hermione had scarfed their food, and made their way to where they stood now, outside Umbridge's office on the third floor. They paused in front of the door, and Hermione reached out to grip Harry's shoulder.

"You need to control your temper tonight," Hermione said, eyes making it clear she was serious. "We both lost it last time. Now we need to go in there and be calm and rational. We don't need to be remorseful- we just don't need to give her a reason to give us any more detentions."

Harry's green eyes flashed in anger, but then calmed as he processed the common sense in what she was saying. His muscles tensed and then relaxed under her hand. "Alright," he said, and made to turn away.

"Wait-" Hermione said. "If for some reason something does happen, let me confront her. You really can't afford any more trouble, and I can." She grinned in self-deprecation. "Being a know-it-all swot has its benefits, you know?"

Harry returned her grin. "On your head," he replied, nudging her playfully. "Let's go in."

They pushed open the door, and Hermione's stomach rolled a bit at the sight within. The first thing that hit her was the explosion of pink.

The second thing that unsettled her completely was the kittens that were frolicking in porcelain plates on the walls. The sickening sweetness contrasted with how those plates were typically created made her clench her fists in horror. If there was anything Hermione abhorred it was cruelty to animals. The souls of those kittens had been (painfully) wrenched from their bodies and trapped on the plates. It made Hermione want to clutch Crookshanks and give him all the cap nip he could ever want.

"Good evening," Harry said next to her, tone deliberately even. He glanced at her.

"Good evening," Hermione echoed, unclenching her hands and smoothing her robes.

Umbridge ignored them for a moment, adding something to a piece of pink stationery. Then she looked up, smiling sharply. "Good evening," she replied sweetly.

"Tonight you will be writing lines," Umbridge simpered. Both Harry and Hermione moved to take writing materials from their bags, but a giggle stopped them.  _ How old are you? _ Hermione thought snarkily.  _ Twelve? _

She opened a drawer in her desk and withdrew two long black quills, holding them with an almost tangible reverence. "You will be using these. Please provide your own paper."

Hermione frowned trying to remember where she had seen those before- and then it hit her. "You foul woman," she snarled. "Those are illegal in Great Britain, except for use in signing binding magical contracts. Not only would you be fired for using them because of the 'just punishment' clauses of the Hogwarts charter, but you would also probably be fined 500 Galleons per quill if you don't end up in Azkaban."

Umbridge's eyes lit up. "Miss Granger, twenty points from Gryffindor for insulting a professor and speaking out of turn."

"Those are illegal," Hermione insisted, eyes narrowed. "Prolonged use will cause lasting harm."

Harry was visibly confused next to her. "Hermione?" he asked in a low voice.

"Those are blood quills, Harry," Hermione answered, eyes focused on Umbridge. "You don't use ink. It scratches the words into the back of your hand and uses your blood for ink. The cut heals, of course, but prolonged use will leave scars on the back of the hand. They're illegal dark artifacts, and the only place they can be legally used is in Gringotts or the Ministry to sign contracts in blood. If you break such a contract, your blood boils in your veins, which is why the use of such quills are restricted."

Umbridge tapped one of the quills against her lips. "True, true… Miss Granger. Completely true, unless, of course, you have a special writ from the Minister of Magic himself." The grin on her face turned truly vicious.

Hermione glared at her. "It could quite possibly ruin Minster Fudge's political career if it was revealed that he gave a teacher permission to use a device that causes permanent scarring on  _ children. _ " Her tone wasn't quite threatening- but it was close.

Clearly, Umbridge knew what Hermione was doing. "And for that, Miss Granger, you will write out 'I must not speak ill of my betters.' Mr. Potter, your lines are 'I must not tell lies.' Sit. Get to it."

"Professor Umbridge-" Hermione started again.

The woman stopped her, holding up one chubby ringed hand. " _ Enough, _ Miss Granger. One more word out of you and I will extend your detentions into next week."

"Why shouldn't I report you?" Hermione asked, voice deadly. "Tell me why I shouldn't leave this room right now and go to Professor McGonagall. Or better yet, Headmaster Dumbledore."

The professor's beady little eyes narrowed further. "Miss Granger, I hear you are Muggleborn," the professor said, voice sickeningly sweet, even though her eyes were cold. "You do not know the way things work in our world. For instance, connections. For example, I have a very good friend who works at the Ministry, in the Department of Muggleborn Administrations. They are the ones responsible for keeping all the information on Muggleborns- grades, addresses, parent's names… they are the ones who can input and…  _ edit _ … information. Now in the Wizarding world, if I do her a favor, she does me one.  _ Do you understand what I am saying? _ "

_ If she does a friend is such a position then she could change my scores, my information. She also thinks she is threatening my family, she has no idea that I sent them away. As far as the Ministry is concerned, their last known residence burned down. No bodies were found, presumed missing, etc. This is where I stand down, as little as I like this situation. _

Harry looked ready to yell, but Hermione met his eyes and shook her head once brusquely.

"Perfectly," Hermione spat out through gritted teeth.

Umbridge put a quill on each desk. "Then get to work, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter. And Miss Granger, I will take another twenty points from Gryffindor."

The two Gryffindors got to work. Their backs were facing Umbridge, so only Hermione saw the surprise on Harry's face at the sting from the quill. She steeled herself, and wrote in a cramped script:

_ I must not speak ill of my betters. _

The cuts in her hand healed instantly, leaving only a red flush on her pale skin. Hermione had dealt with worse pain before- just the fact that this was self-inflicted and, frankly, demeaning made it worse that training with Moody.

_ I must not speak ill of my betters, my arse, _ she thought angrily.  _ I see no betters in her. Or in that idiot Fudge. This will not be a hard promise to keep. _

As the night wore on, Hermione carefully monitored the painful-looking tender skin on both her hand and Harry's. She was half tempted to switch hands, but decided against it. She only wanted this particular scar on one hand.

When Umbridge finally released her and Harry, they walked in silence until they were two corridors away. That was when Harry lost it, turning and punching the wall.

"Let me see your hand, Hermione," he ordered, ignoring his own painfully red hand. "That- that bitch. You're right, aren't you? But she was threatening your family, wasn't she?" His green eyes were desperate and furious, his drive for saving people coming to the forefront again. This needed to be contained, but Hermione wasn't quite sure how to do it.

Hermione held her hand out for his inspection. "She was," Hermione acknowledged. She hissed as Harry ran his thumb across the tender area.

"Sorry," he apologized. "How does it feel?"

"Perfectly lovely," replied Hermione dryly. "How's yours?" She took his hand to examine the raw skin.

"Same," he quipped, in the same tone that she had used. "What do you want to do?"

Hmm. She had to think about this a bit. "I'm not entirely sure right now," she admitted. "I want to think over our options. And get some murtlap tentacles."

"Alright," Harry said, heaving a frustrated sigh. "I trust you, Hermione. Do we want to tell Ron about this?"

Hermione hesitated. "No," she finally said. "What I want to do is wear a Glamour. But I think we should tell him anyway." At Harry's slightly confused look, Hermione explained. "Ron would be hurt if he found out later that we had kept him out of the loop. There are some things that we need to tell him, and there are other things that he doesn't need to know. What happened in the graveyard is one example of the later- but tonight is the former."

Unconsciously, Harry ran a hand through his dark and already messy hair. "Maybe we should wait a bit. So he doesn't go off and confront her."

"If you want to," Hermione agreed, biting her lip. "Come on. Let's get to the Common Room. You're already behind in homework, aren't you?"

* * *

Hermione was grading first-year papers at his desk when Severus returned from a meeting with the Dark Lord. When he had arrived, the soft light coming from under the door had put him on high alert- it was disconcerting how much he relaxed once he realized it was her.

She looked up, and gave him a little smile. "I enchanted the quill to reproduce your handwriting," she explained quickly. "I came to find you and you had left. I was bored, so I figured I might as well lighten your workload."

He gave her a rare, tired smile. "Is it vitally important, or do I have time to change?" he asked, voice gravelly.

"What we need to talk about is important, but it can wait until you've showered and changed," Hermione reminded him, casting a critical eye over his body. The scrutiny half-irritated him. "How bad was it?" Her voice was gentle, but not pitying. That alone was enough to make him answer.

"He's planning something big," Severus said bleakly. "I'm worried."

That worried Hermione. She leaned back in his big chair, a frown on her face as she nibbled at her lip. "How big?" she asked, turning her large brown eyes back to him. "Wait- don't answer. Go get comfortable, Severus. I'll just grade a few more papers while you do."

She shooed him away, and he obeyed.

Hermione turned attention back to the first year essays- they were atrocious, she could see why Severus was so fed up with them.  _ Honestly. The properties of a plant such as fennel- no, it's not just for soup. And it doesn't stop sneezes, or- did this kid seriously just say hiccups? Sweet Merlin, they need some serious help! _ She scrawled an acerbic comment in the margins.

She was working on a third paper when Severus reappeared, in a pair of black slacks and a white button-down shirt, the shoulders of which were already wet from his damp hair. When she walked past him to get the tea she had made, she realized that he smelled like herbs and sandalwood. She wondered if he made his own soap or shampoo- it smelled lovely. No- lovely wasn't the right word. Masculine.

"Here," she said, pressing a cup of tea into his hands. "So. What's the Dark Lord have on his mind?"

Severus sighed and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I have no bloody idea," he snarled quietly. "It's got me worried. He speaking of rewarding 'his most loyal followers' and as far as I know, they're all in Azkaban."

"Has he gotten control of the Dementors, yet?" Hermione asked, brow furrowed. "Is he going to try to break them out?"

"We'll see," Severus said darkly. "It'll happen sooner or later. What did you need to speak to me about?"

Hermione sighed. "Well, in light of all this it seems rather silly. Umbridge. She's using blood quills for detention."

She held up her hand. Where Harry's redness had faded away by the time they went to bed, Hermione's fairer skin held the faint impression of letters. Severus didn't make any overt reaction, but his face hardened perceptibly and he rose gracefully, with fluid anger in every line of his body. Wordlessly, he stalked across the room to disappear into his private workroom, reappearing a moment later with a bottle and cloth in his hands.

He sat down next to her, setting the bottle and cloth down on the coffee table. He was close enough for her to smell the herbal scent he used mingled with the smell of his shower and the faint smell of Severus, close enough for her to see the shadow of stubble on his chin, close enough for her to hear his breathing.

Tenderly he took her smaller hand in both of his larger, calloused ones. His were covered in small scars and burns from the thousands of potions he had made, but were still eloquently put together, long fingers giving the appearance of slimness despite his broad palms. Her hands were cold- his were warm. She shivered. He ran his thumb over the skin in the same way that Harry had. But for some reason, when Severus did it, the muscles of Hermione's abdomen clenched and she felt giddy.

She was so distracted by his closeness that she let out a small sound of pain. "My apologies," he murmured, eyes darted to her face to assess her comfort level. "Allow me to relieve the pain."

"Of course," she whispered, heart thudding in her ears.

With quick deft movements, Severus uncapped the bottle and upended it on the cloth, gathering some of the liquid. Carefully he smoothed it over the skin on the back of her hand, using long firm strokes to spread the faintly yellow liquid over the area.

"Better?" he asked, voice hardly a rumble.

Hermione's eyes were half closed in relief. "Much," she answered, letting out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Severus." The liquid had burned cold and given her a wonderful feeling of relief.

"What did she have you write?" he asked in a tone anyone else would have called neutral. Hermione could detect the anger in his voice.

"I must not speak ill of my betters," Hermione spat, flexing her hand, her own anger igniting again.

Severus allowed her to reclaim her hand. "You didn't protest?" he asked, a note of what may have been disapproval in his voice.

She gave him a look that clearly communicated,  _ Of course I did, you dolt.  _ "She threatened my family and academic scores in front of Harry."

"Ah," he said, nodding his head in understanding. "I assume she made reference to her many friends in high places?"

Hermione confirmed his assumption. "I'm not sure if she was making a genuine threat or if she was playing off my 'Muggleborn ignorance' of the Wizarding World. I'm going to do some digging this week."

They discussed Umbridge, her awfulness, and the various ways Hermione could treat her for another half hour before weariness made itself known.

"Very well," Severus said, yawning. "I'm going to fall asleep right here on this couch. Is there anything else of importance, or can you scat and leave me to sleep in peace?" He yawned again and stretched, drawing Hermione's eye to the lines of his body- the slope of his neck, the breadth of his shoulders, the arch of his back.

She cleared her dry throat. "No," she said, standing and stretching herself. "I'll be off." There was a completely insane urge to kiss his forehead, which she hastily shoved away.

"Goodnight," Severus told her, pushing himself off the couch with groan so he could escort her to the door.

* * *

The next few days passed uneventfully. Harry was stressed and overwhelmed with homework, and, oddly enough, Ron was too. Hermione supposed it could be because she was in detention and not present to nag him about his homework. She really hoped that Ron's inherent laziness wasn't the issue- as annoying and frustrating as Ron could be, he could be really sweet and helpful at times- because she had higher hopes for him as a person.

No Ron was hiding something. She wasn't particularly inclined to figure out what it was. She had more important things to worry about- namely, Umbridge and the detentions.

Her hand ached all the time, even with the solution Severus had given her the second night of detention. Even so, by the third night, the words on both her hand and Harry's refused to go away. The hateful words sat on top of her skin, oozing her blood. It disgusted her.

Even so, she and Harry did discover what Ron had been hiding.  _ Quidditch? All the secrecy over Quidditch? I swear, I don't know why I stay with the two of them… _

And then Ron had noticed their hands and become outraged. Especially on Hermione's part.

"That foul, foul woman," he ranted, hardly remembering to keep his voice down. "I want to hurt her, Hermione, for what she's doing to you-"

"Oi!" Harry said, somewhat indignantly. "What about me, mate?" The humor defused the situation quickly, but Ron persisted in insisting that Harry and Hermione try to tell McGonagall.

"Listen, Ron," Hermione said finally, fed up. "This is a game of wills between us. And I don't want to draw Professor McGonagall into this- chances are, she's not going to be surprised. Think about her options. Either she turns Umbridge in, or she stays silent. Reporting Umbridge gets her into trouble with the Ministry, which equals trouble with the press. Professor McGonagall is a respected Transfiguration Mistress- and yet, her name is hardly spotless because of her known association with the Headmaster. This makes matters worse for her, and for the Order. And even if she does go through all that trouble, nothing will happen to Umbridge anyway. There is no point. And yet, if we put this in front of her, Professor McGonagall will be forced to choose between either reporting Umbridge, or not reporting her. Doing something stupid and foolhardy and technically right, or doing something smart yet something that is at odds with her morals and her sense of justice."

She took a breath, and continued. "It would be wrong of us to ask her to do that, because in a situation like this, Professor McGonagall is going to do the Gryffindor 'right thing' even though she is clever enough to know how completely pointless it is. And the fact that it is Harry makes everything more complicated."

Ron was giving her an odd look. "Stop it," she snapped at him. "And don't say what- it's that way that you're  _ looking _ at me, like I'm-" she couldn't come up with words, so she just glared.

"I'm sorry?" Ron offered, and Hermione fought the urge to burst into tears. Eventually, she gave in- it wasn't often that she gave in to the hormones and emotions, and sometimes she just  _ needed _ to.

She put her hands over her face and started sobbing, missing the startled exchange of glances that transpired over her head. Hermione tried to keep quiet, just letting her shoulders shake.

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry, trying to be comforting, He hugged her awkwardly, patting her back and looking helplessly at Ron when she turned to sob into his shoulder.

They were near the Gryffindor Common Room, which was deserted that late at night, and with some manoeuvring they made it so that all three of them were sitting on a comfy old red sofa. Hermione calmed down, rubbing at her blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm being silly," she said, hiccupping a bit. "I'm sorry for snapping at you Ron- it's just-" she put a hand over her mouth to stop herself. "I'm sorry."  _ There is so much I'm sorry for. _

"Don't be," Ron said forgivingly. "It's tough, right now. And it doesn't help that Umbridge is making you carve words into your own hand."

Hermione moaned softly. "This is going to scar," she moped piteously, giving in to her vanity for a moment. "Another god-damned scar!"

Harry patted her arm awkwardly. "One more night," he reassured her. "And then we stay on the straight and narrow and avoid getting detention again."

The next day was the Quidditch tryouts- Hermione could see Harry anxiously watching the window for a hint about Ron's placement on the team. She hoped he would get it- although she didn't care for Quidditch one way or another, Ron was still her friend and she wanted him to be happy.

Her blood dripped from her hand onto the parchment, the cuts refusing to heal. It made Hermione nauseous and faintly lightheaded, the crimson of her blood, the ivory of her skin, and the mahogany of the desk.  _ Next I'll start thinking I'm Snow White _ , she thought giddily.

The salve Severus gave her had helped, but she saw that there was no going back now-  _ I must not speak ill of my betters _ would be permanently etched on her right hand.

The slack smile that Umbridge gave her, and the prickle of pain that shot through her hand when the witch's stubby fingers prodded at the wound, made Hermione want to gnash her teeth and strike out at the woman with her knives. Instead she nodded a terse 'goodnight' and left, Harry close on her heels.

"That woman is foul," Harry hissed at her, eyes wide and somewhat fearful. "My scar ached when she touched me, Hermione. Do you think she's a Death Eater, or-"

"No," Hermione said immediately. "Gods above, she's awful, but there is no way that she is serving the Dark Lord. I think it was rather an unhappy coincidence that your scar hurt when she touched you. Do you want to go to Dumbledore?"

Harry frowned, face darkening. "No," he said curtly.

"Then tell me about it," Hermione said easily. It made no sense to pressure him when what he would tell her would be reported to Dumbledore later.

The boy's nose wrinkled. "I dunno," he said slowly. "I felt- strange, when she touched me. I mean, my head hurt, but-" he flushed suddenly. "My- my navel felt strange."

It took a moment, but the combination of Harry's red face and the location of the sensation clicked for Hermione. "Oh!" she squeaked, eyes darting away from Harry's face while her mind hastened to put the pieces together. "So he was… happy, then."

"Looks like it," Harry said, looking away. "I dunno. We'll see what the papers report tomorrow, won't we?"

Hermione agreed, and changed the subject quickly, which Harry was evidently thankful for. She waited until everyone had gone to bed, and left to see Severus.

She let herself into his rooms as she had done before, reasoning that he hadn't told her not to, after the time before.  _ The Dark Lord is calling another meeting just a couple days after the last one, _ she thought, a swirl of unease in her stomach.  _ What happened? _

The possibilities and their repercussions were enough to keep her mind occupied for hours, but slowly she slipped into a light sleep on Severus' sofa. His rooms smelled like he did, a scent so comforting that Hermione had no close her eyes clench her fists to hold back the tears that threatened.

_ He smells safe. Safety. Which is ridiculous because Severus is the most dangerous man I've ever met. _

Her thoughts wandered, as she dozed on the sofa. Eventually, her eyelids were too heavy to keep open, and she thought with her eyes shut.

_ What would happen if I tell him? Could he ever love me? Do I even really love him? _

_ I do now- I know my own emotions, I think. But will I forever? What kind of silly, foolish person would I be if I told Severus I was in love with him and ruined this balance between us forever- and then changed my mind? Or if he had feelings for me back and I changed my mind? _

_ I suppose I should make a list. It's reasonable and I have time. _

_ What I like about Severus Snape: His mind. The way he is graceful when he moves. How his voice drawls and dips and just sounds like a dagger wrapped in silk. His hands when he brews. The intensity of everything he does. When he talks to me like an equal. The way he listens to what I have to say. The lines of his body when he fights. The ease with which he summons his magic and lets it slide around him. His bravery. _

_ What I don't like about Severus Snape: He can be a callous git. He can be merciless. How he can be so uncaring. The way he sinks into moods and nothing can get him out. He can be downright nasty half the time. _

_ I doubt any of those things are going to change. Except for the physical things, but those aren't really that important anyway- they're just nice to look at. _

_ He's always going to be a nasty git who is moody and snappish. Merciless. I can be merciless. Perhaps we are more alike than I'm comfortable with. _

_ Too bad. _

_ One day Voldemort will be gone and everything will be better. I'm still optimistic enough to believe that. Naïve enough. _

* * *

Severus frowned as his wards alerted him to a visitor- it was probably Hermione again.  _ She has something of import, I suppose. _

He strode through the doors to his chambers, fully expecting to be in a mood and encourage her to leave as soon as possible. Her presence in a place as personal as his rooms made the little bubble of feeling inside his ribcage squirm. She made him uncomfortable, she unsettled him.

"Whatever your news may be-" he stopped, teeth coming together with a click. She lay on his sofa, her busy cushion of hair making itself useful for once as a pillow. Her face was hardly gentler in sleep, as she was gentle normally.

_ It is a strange thing to see Hermione in a cold fury, _ Severus recalled, thinking back to the times when that had happened.  _ Her face doesn't change so much as her presence. When she is angry, she makes one notice her. Her features come into detail, her eyes snap beautifully- and here I am, staring at her sleep and making a fool of myself. _

He stared a moment longer anyway, taking in the shadow of her lashes upon her cheek and the way she hugged herself in the absence of a blanket. He wanted nothing more than to smooth her hair away, or caress her cheek.

Instead, he wordlessly Summoned a pillow from the other seat and Transfigured it into a blanket, settling it over her with his wand instead of his hands, before stalking off to shower and change.

Severus was buttoning his shirt when he felt, as much as heard, Hermione wake. He left his bedroom and stalked into the sitting room, smiling slightly despite himself when he saw the expression her face. There was a crease mark from where her cheek had rested on the couch, and she was rubbing her eyes with a sleepy slowness to her motions. She was sitting up now, propped against the arm of the sofa.

"Did you have a good nap, Hermione?" Severus drawled, raising an eyebrow and smirking at her.

Predictably, she scowled at him. "No. Your couch is rubbish."

"Liar," he said, still smirking. "Or else you wouldn't have fallen asleep."

She looked like an angry kitten when she was scowling- he could almost forget she was dangerous. "I did come here for a reason, you know. I don't just break into your rooms for fun."

He actually chuckled. "You didn't break into my rooms, you have a password," he retorted. "What did you come about?"

Hermione's brow wrinkled, and she absentmindedly pulled the blanket up. "Harry. He sensed something from the Dark Lord."

With a groan, Severus sunk into the armchair, covering his eyes. He had managed to push it away, the niggling feeling that something was wrong. "I knew it."

"Knew what?" Hermione asked. Now her forehead was furrowing in worry for Severus as well. "Harry said that the Dark Lord was pleased- or aroused."

Severus looked up. "Potter knows what arousal feels like?" He felt slightly repulsed at the thought.

Hermione snorted a laugh. "Um… he's a teenager, Severus. We all know what arousal feels like. But no, he didn't say it out loud, he was too embarrassed. He just said that the feeling came from his navel- and then figured it out and went beet red."

_ She's not embarrassed… why? _ "Well, I think I know why the Dark Lord was happy," Severus said darkly. "Lucius came back, crowing about a minor victory against the Order. I didn't stay long- the Dark Lord sent me away, figuring that Dumbledore would call me in about it."

"I sure he will," Hermione murmured, frowning as she tried to finger comb her dark curls. "An Order meeting- I should go."

Severus looked her over, and without hesitation spoke. "Don't Glamour yourself. It's high time that the Order knows who is protecting Harry and treat you with the according respect."

In the instant it took Hermione to process the information, she was refusing on principle. "The more people who know the more dangerous it is for me," she snapped. "I already sit in on most of the meetings. I thought the entire point of having me as a bodyguard to Harry was that people wouldn't suspect anything!"

"It is," Severus retorted, just as much ire in his voice. "But I think that this situation is getting too dangerous for this knowledge to be confined to just half of the upper echelons of the Order. Too many could die. And if we wait much longer, they will feel betrayed that we didn't tell them sooner. We cannot afford any rifts in the Order."

Hermione shook her head. "Severus. I'm only there to defend Harry-"

"It's more than that and you know it," Severus snarled in a low voice. "You want me to treat you like an adult, Hermione, then act like it. You need to be protected now just as much as Harry does. How much do you think you know about the plans of the Order? How much information do you think you know about the Dark Lord? About Dumbledore's plans?"

"I know plenty but certainly not everything!" Hermione exclaimed. "I-"

"If you are captured, Hermione," Severus said, stressing her name and meeting her eyes, "Then you could topple this. If they get any information out of you, you would be risking the Order. The lives of those in the Order. My life."

Hermione, a wild, frightened kind of look on her face, glared at him. "No. You've tested my Occlumency walls yourself. They're strong. I've faced the Dark Lord before."

Severus pounded his fist on his leg, visibly trying to calm himself. "Hermione, this is about ensuring your protection, and therefore Potter's."

"No, it's more than that because if it was about Harry's protection you would have said something before now," Hermione said slowly, staring into Severus' grey eyes. "It's bigger."

Severus wanted to look away, but he didn't. "The reasons I give aren't enough?"

"Since when have you lied to me, Severus?" Hermione asked, voice heartbreakingly gentle when he expected it to be cold.

His own voice sharpened. "I am a spy. Nothing that comes out of my mouth is ever entirely true," he informed her. "So rid yourself of that illusion."

If she was hurt she didn't show it. "Severus, tell me why you want me to reveal myself to the Order as myself."

"Tell me why you are refusing to do this simple thing," responded Severus.

Hermione looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, rubbing at her jaw with the palm of one hand. "Because at first they won't believe it and they'll force me to prove myself. And then they'll look at me and see someone who's strange- a girl who isn't just weird because she's a 'walking, talking, encyclopedia' but because she's dangerous. They'll feel angry, cheated, lied to. They'll want to tell Ron and Harry."

"Would that be such an awful thing?" Severus asked, feeling awkward now that she had actually answered his question. "To have them know?"

There was no hesitation before her answer. "Yes," she said simply, looking away from him. "They are happy. Kids. Harry bears the weight of the world on his shoulders but he doesn't really know it yet. If they knew-" she looked down and away. "They would hate me at the most and never trust me again at the least. It isn't worth losing their friendship just to let them know that I'm looking out for them."

"Does friendship matter so much to you that you would put it before lives?" Severus asked, long fingers clenching his armchair.

Hermione looked up again, brushing back hair from her eyes. "No, of course not," she said. "If we were in a situation and I needed to reveal myself I would do so. But I want the illusion to last as long as possible, Severus. I want some part of my life where I'm just Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire." Her face changed from open and somewhat emotional to closed. "I've told you my reasons. Now you tell me yours."

"Hermione, you know most if not all of the major operations of the Order," Severus started tersely. "In fact, in the chain of command that the others see, it is Dumbledore, Minerva, and then perhaps Kingsley. But in terms of who knows the plan, the secrets, there is only one person who knows everything and that is Dumbledore. After Dumbledore, I know the most- I have to, it's part of my job as the Order's primary spy. And then there is you."

There was a moment of silence as Hermione absorbed this information. "There are things McGonagall doesn't know?" The fire was flickering, casting long shadows in the room. He hadn't bothered to light torches on the wall brackets.

"Of course," replied Severus. "Dumbledore trusts no one, including me. What I know is what I have to know for my job. One cannot gather and sort important information if one is bombarded from every side with anything and everything. In one meeting with the Dark Lord, I learn hundreds of things and tell Dumbledore only that which is relevant. The rest only I remember and if it appears again or in another context, I can recall it. Therefore, he is forced to share with me most of what is happening, so I can add information from the Death Eaters."

"Then why me?" Hermione asked. "Shouldn't someone else know more than I do?" She was dodging what she knew and it was infuriating him.

Severus wanted to snarl in frustration. Instead, he shook back his still-damp hair from his face to see her clearly. "I know the most, second only to Dumbledore. And  _ who do I talk to? _ "

He saw the moment of realization on her face. "Me."

"Exactly," he said, not quite able to keep the dripping sarcasm from his voice. "As unseemly as it is, I run most of the information pass you. And with good reason- you have the brain for this work, Hermione. You catalogue and organize information and are able to recall it with amazing ease. You plot with the mind of a Slytherin, you are as amiable as a Hufflepuff, have the self-confidence of a Gryffindor, and the intelligence of a Ravenclaw. You came up with our entire strategy for Umbridge- Hermione, what you have planned isn't going to be contained within the walls of Hogwarts- you know this. Dumbledore is thinking about bringing you in on some of the larger planning for outside these four walls."

Her face was drawn and he could tell she had already known this. "I'm not a fool, Severus. So what?"

"So  _ think, _ " he snapped at her. "I know you have a brain, Hermione, so  _ use _ it for Merlin's sake!" When she refused to answer, he propelled himself from his chair. "Who do you think has the most relevant and irrelevant information on the current Death Eaters and plans of the Dark Lord, and Bellatrix Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy in the Order, Hermione? They say you're the brightest witch of your generation, prove it!"

She stood as well, letting the blanket fall to the ground. "Are you implying that I do? Severus, what does this have to do with letting the Order know that Hermione the bodyguard exists?"

"What happens if I die, Hermione?" Severus asked, bearing down on her. "Dumbledore doesn't know as much about the inner workings of the Death Eaters as you do. I've discussed possibilities with you, laid out information on the table that even Dumbledore doesn't know. You know these people through me. If something happened to me, you need to work with Dumbledore and whoever the next spy will be to make sure the Order succeeds."

He was directly in front of her, their chests almost touching. He was so tall that her head was tilted back uncomfortably, her eyes meeting his squarely. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Severus," she said softly.

"Don't be naïve," he sneered. "Every time I walk into the Dark Lord's throne room I risk death. I want the Order to know about you now so that in the event of my death, you can give information and work with adults without it being a terrible shock. They need time to get used to you, to see you in action so to speak. They won't just take my word for it- although Dumbledore's and Lupin's will probably count for something. "

Hermione's muscles clenched in her neck and face, drawing his attention to the fact he was close enough to see it. "To everyone? Or just the Inner Circle?"

Severus blinked down at her. "Just the Inner Circle, for now," he said, feeling his weariness sink down on him. "Let's go see Dumbledore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 15. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I know it's a slow burn - we are getting close to some revelation of feelings! If you need some more SSHG, I have another one shot up! 
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! Thanks again to my wonderful beta. This chapter jumps around quite a bit and references many of the events of the first part of OOTP!

**_Chapter 16_ **

Severus and Hermione Flooed to Dumbledore's office in silence. Severus plucked the small pot that contained his Floo powder from the mantel to offer it to her, even though it was well within her reach. Hermione glanced at him curiously, then took a pinch and stepped into the fire.

When Severus arrived at her heels, Dumbledore was offering Hermione a lemon drop, which she turned down.  _ The old goat should know better than to ask her by now. Then again, I've known him personally for more than sixteen years and he's never once failed to offer one of his infernal sweets. _

"Ah, Severus, my boy," Dumbledore said, smiling happily. "Lemon Drop?"

Severus shook his head once curtly, black locks swinging into his face. "No, thank you, Albus."

Hermione took a seat in one of Dumbledore's large fluffy chairs. "Severus and I have something we want to discuss with you, Headmaster," she said calmly.

Somewhat surprised, Severus stood behind her chair, gripping the back of it. He could feel the softness of her curls against his hands. "I think it is high time for Hermione to be formally inducted into the Order. And take her place in the Inner Circle."

The Headmaster leaned back in his own, throne-like chair, stroking his beard. "Oh?"

"We've discussed it and evaluated the various pros and cons," said Hermione, and from above Severus could see her eyes had narrowed like a cat's. "We think it should be done soon. Tonight, if possible."

The piercing blue eyes of the Headmaster bored into Hermione's, and then into Severus' before returning to the woman's face. "I find myself thinking it through and agreeing that it would indeed be wise to at least reveal your purpose to the Inner Circle. Are you certain about the Outer Circle, though, my dear? And why tonight?"

Hermione tilted her head back, meeting Severus' eyes briefly before explaining. "Severus has been adamant that my role in protecting Harry should be revealed soon to forestall any indignation from the Outer Circle. They have been upset that they don't know the extent of Harry's protection- you've heard the mutterings, Headmaster. And we think that tonight would be good because an Inner Circle meeting shall need to be called anyway." Hermione checked her watch, and found it was nearly two. "I know it's late but according to Severus, Lucius Malfoy did something that is going to have an impact."

"If we tell them now, the other news will take the forefront," Severus said smoothly. "Call the Inner Circle, and do the induction. Explain, as briefly as you can, Hermione's role. Hopefully, you will be conveniently interrupted by the news that something happened. The Outer Circle can be taken care of at the next full meeting. Wednesday- correct?"

Dumbledore sighed and stroked his long beard again. His eyes closed behind his half-moon glasses, and in a brief moment, they all silently acknowledged how old he was getting. "It's too late for a man of my stature and with my arthritis to be out of bed," he remarked. "Very well. Go ahead and Floo to Grimmauld. I shall call the Inner Circle to Number Twelve."

It confused Hermione for a moment, that Dumbledore was able to speak the name of the Headquarters, before she remembered that he was the Secret-Keeper. That was a bad sign- she was wearier than she had previously assumed. She nodded and accepted a pinch of Floo powder, tossing it into the flames that burned a jewel-bright green as she stepped through them.

* * *

The kitchen table at Grimmauld Place was empty- the Order had not yet convened. Hermione waited with Severus in the Library, not wanting to have to explain her presence to each member as they arrived. The normal list of things to do (check the journal connected with Rita Skeeter, keep up her correspondence with Viktor and Charlotte, work on summarizing a stack of Order reports for Dumbledore, Transfiguration homework) had quieted, leaving her with the one thing she did not want to think about.

Hermione stood at one of the large windows set into a nook in the wall. There was a cushion there, which made it a great place to read. The moon was high, only a sliver in the dark, matted sky of London. No stars were visible through the fog of pollution.

_ The first revelation,  _ she thought, staring at the moon through the thick panes of glass.  _ None of these people are going to see me the same ever again. I'll have to be strong before all of them, all the time, lest they ever doubt me and my devotion to Harry. _

"Are you regretting your decision?" Severus' deep voice was barely audible, but Hermione heard. She could both feel his presence at her back, and see his reflection in the glass window.

Hermione met his fathomless eyes in the reflection. "Which one?"

"Any of them." She loved his voice, the way it seemed to thrum through her bones.

Closing her eyes, Hermione answered. "No. I have the feeling that I should, though. Why don't I?"

She was surprised with a warm hand on her shoulder. "Because you are doing what is right, even if it isn't easy."

"Is it that simple, though?" Hermione opened her eyes again, and met his in the glass. "Severus, what the hell am I doing? I'm eighteen. How are they supposed to trust me?"

The hand on her shoulder gently turned Hermione around. "You have been older than your years all your life, Hermione," Severus told her. "Yes, you are eighteen. The boy we are pinning our hopes on is fifteen."

"By saying it aloud tonight, we're making it real," Hermione said, drawing comfort from the hand still on her shoulder. "If I fail- if something happens it will be my fault. Totally my fault and everyone will know."

"Some would blame you," admitted Severus. "But the good ones know who you are. You are our best hope of getting Potter to face the Dark Lord alive." He released her shoulder, and checked his watch. "We should go down to the meeting."

He brushed passed her, opening the door to let her through. "I will back you, whatever anyone may do or say."

"Thank you, Severus," Hermione said, wishing she could take his hand and squeeze it.

He regarded her with his typical guarded expression. "You are welcome."

They had reached the door to the kitchen, and could hear Dumbledore talking. "… Severus will be bringing down the new Inner Circle member shortly."

Severus opened the door, gesturing for Hermione to go first. She did so without outward hesitation- inside she was refusing to walk, but her face was set in her own unreadable expression.

The reaction of the Order members was, Hermione could admit, quite hilarious. Mrs. Weasley squeaked and a few of the other members just goggled. However, as soon as Severus entered behind her, all of the furious chatter that had broken out at Hermione's appearance stopped. His glare had that effect on people.

Hermione had removed her Glamour and stood tall in the face of the stares directed her way. Without the spell, she looked far older. It was not just in the way her body had matured- no, the weariness on her face was not hidden, the wry strength in her arms and shoulders was revealed, but the real transformation was in the way she held herself.

"She's just a child…" Mrs. Weasley started to say, trailing off as she took in Hermione's appearance.

Behind her, Hermione could hear Severus exhale in a manner that suggested he was holding back a statement. Hermione kept back a smirk.

"Miss Granger is no child, Molly," Dumbledore said gravely. "She has been working toward Harry's protection and Voldemort's defeat for… how long has it been for you, my dear?"

Hermione spoke easily, none of her unease showing in her tone. "Five years, for me. A little less than two for everyone else." She was grateful she didn't need to edge the wall to walk to Dumbledore's side- she and Severus had entered through the somewhat hidden door near the head of the table. It was easy for her to stand beside the Headmaster, with Severus at her back.

"Miss Granger has been protecting Mr. Potter since she was thirteen years old," Severus said, addressing the Order. "Some of you knew- those who had a hand in training her. With the use of a Time Turner and the finest teachers in Wizarding England, she has been a valuable resource in guarding Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore nodded, opening his hands as he implored the Order to listen. "Calmness, please. We will answer all your questions."

"Within reason, of course," added Severus. His glare did quiet the crowd somewhat.

Mrs. Weasley asked the first question. "Who knew about this?" she demanded, rising indignantly. "I would have never given permission for my daughter-"

"Which was why your daughter was never even considered. Nor your son," Severus interrupted smoothly. "I knew, the Headmaster, Lupin, Nymphadora, Moody, Kingsley, Andromeda, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and Black. We needed to keep the information contained for as long as possible."

Kingsley leaned back in his chair, crossing powerful forearms across his chest. "I am curious as to why you are revealing Hermione's role now, Headmaster. After the lengths you took swearing us to secrecy…"

"The Dark Lord and a few of his servants may be aware of Hermione's true role," Severus said, meeting Kingsley's eyes- he respected the man. "After the events of the graveyard, Hermione was forced to reveal herself by attacking the Death Eaters, giving Potter time to get away. We have come to the conclusion that the Order should know. Hermione will need to be protected as much as Harry, now- at the risk of sounding melodramatic, it is true that she knows too much, and is far too valuable to lose."

"I have been part of the Order for the past several months," Hermione said quietly. Everyone heard her nonetheless, and several small conversations fell to hear her speak. "You know who I am. The one who sits in the back and occasionally makes suggestions."

"The only one Severus ever listens to," added Tonks, a large grin on her face. "Our favorite little lioness."

Arthur nearly stood with the realization. "The one who didn't want to go get Harry because she doesn't like to fly."

Hermione grinned at him. "Yes. I hate brooms."

"She's the one who suggested the watch rotation," Emmeline Vance said, realization evident in her tone.

"But what can she know?" asked Molly, wringing plump hands red from washing dishes. "She's only a girl."

Severus glared at the Weasley matriarch. "For the last time. Hermione Granger is 18 years old, past the Wizarding majority. She has seen and done things that would make your head spin, and has more maturity than half of this organization. She's no  _ girl. _ " Severus ignored the part of himself that was calling him out on his support of Hermione for his own selfish reasons.  _ She can't be a girl that would be wrong I can't be thinking about her like this if she is a girl. _

"I trust her with Harry's life daily," Dumbledore told the Order, peering at them over his spectacles. "And as such she has access to intimate details about the boy that the Dark Lord would love to get his hands on. Additionally, she has been a key strategist in the planning of Harry's security." He nodded at Emmeline Vance, who smiled weakly at them.

The sneer Severus gave the group silenced most of them. "All you need to know is that if it comes down to it, trust Hermione Granger with Harry Potter's life. Protect her as you would protect him." He yanked out a chair, gesturing for Hermione to sit. "Can we begin the meeting?"

And the case was closed- Hermione sat, with Severus to her right and Remus to her left, and Dumbledore called the meeting to Order.

"Despite all my best efforts," Dumbledore announced, "The Wizengamot has decided that Sturgis Podmore shall serve a term of six months in Azkaban. This is inevitable, and that means you, Doris, will have to be his permanent replacement on the schedule."

Doris nodded eagerly. "I'll just do as I've been doing, sir," she said.

Just then, the Floo blazed and a small man with a pointed nose tumbled out. "Bode's been sent to St. Mungo's," he wheezed, brushing snoot from his clothes. "The Unspeakable. For some reason, he tried to take the prophecy."

The Order erupted into pandemonium- the members were expressing their disbelief and shock, wondering aloud who had done it. Severus and Hermione were no exception.

"Bodrick Bode, high level Unspeakable at the Ministry of Magic," Hermione murmured to Severus under her breath. "With access to the Hall of Prophecy."

Severus had closed his eyes, and was now pinching the bridge of his impressive nose. "Lucius…" he said, drawing out his friend's name. "That was what the blond ponce was talking about." It was a sign of how angry Severus was that he referred to Lucius as a 'blonde ponce-' normally, he refused to speak badly of his friend and the father of his godson, and when he did, he did not insult their intelligence.

Hermione sighed. "If they tried to make him get the prophecy, then they must not have known what it does to those who are not the subjects," she said. "That means they were in the dark about one thing, and they aren't anymore."

"And Bode was a supporter, if not an Order member," added Severus. "Given time and the proper handling, he could have joined. He would have been valuable as an Unspeakable."

"This was deliberate," Hermione figured, a calculating look appearing on her own face. "But this couldn't have been why the Dark Lord was happy- it was a failure by all accounts."

Severus nodded, a stern frown on his face. "Indeed. There is something else. I'll have to see what I can get out of the Death Eaters at the next meeting."

* * *

The next morning, a Saturday, the news of Sturgis Podmore's incarceration merited a tiny blurb in the middle of the paper. Hermione noticed it immediately, but chose to avoid drawing Harry's attention to it. Of course, therefore he saw it and began to speculate, along with Ron.

"It could be a stitch-up!" exclaimed Ron, moving his large hands wildly about his face. His voice was rather loud- Hermione glared at him, but he continued. "No- listen-" he caught the meaning of Hermione's look and lowered his voice. "The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so- I dunno- they  _ lured _ him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they've just made something up to get him!"

Hermione agreed with him, mostly because he was wrong.  _ No, Ron. He was guarding the prophecy and Lucius Malfoy found him. _

She tried to turn the conversation back to schoolwork, but the boys glanced at each other guiltily and declared that they were going to play Quidditch. Hermione was furious at the two of them, upbraiding them harshly with threats of Ds or Ps on their O.W.L.s. She stalked off to the Common Room to tackle her homework. She knew another self was with them out on the Quidditch field, watching the two boys soar at dangerous heights and make fools of themselves. They wouldn't see her, of course. She would practice her spell work while up there. Reading would be too much of a distraction. Instead, Hermione could practice her Protean Charm.

At lunch, she reminded them once more of their irresponsibility, but instead of returning to the Common Room, she waited until they left and followed them out to the Quidditch Pitch. Sometimes, she felt it was a bit ridiculous, but Dumbledore insisted that she be near Harry every moment since the Dark Lord's resurrection.

Practice went poorly, with the Twins escorting Katie to the Hospital Wing and Ron stomping back to the Gryffindor Common Room while Harry looked on with a rather morbid expression. Hermione let them be- she had some time to relax, and they had tons of homework that she was going to let them suffer through.

Ginny approached and wanted to talk, and Hermione willingly obliged. The redheaded girl was growing to be very much her own person, which Hermione appreciated. Strong-willed, vivacious, pretty, and perhaps most pleasing, intelligent.

_ She's the one Dumbledore hopes Harry will fall for, _ mused Hermione.  _ I can't say it's a bad choice. She's funny, she's beautiful, and pureblood. Harry does seem to like her that way. I like her. But- will Ginny Weasley be able to stand up against the dark? She's spunky but fierce? I dunno. And maybe Harry won't fall in love with her. Or he will for a summer and nothing more. I doubt that Dumbledore would force it. No- he's not going to force it. I'll make sure the two of them aren't pushed together. And I'll have to keep an eye on Molly- that woman is a fan of love potions. _

It was late when she finally wandered over to help the boys out. Hermione wasn't surprised by Ron's continued bad mood or his rejection of her assistance. She was ready to go to bed when she spotted Hermes, Percy's owl. The letter he sent Ron sent small chills down Hermione's spine.

_ Percy's not involved with the Weasleys anymore, and he is just a trumpet for the Ministry. This is pretty much the unofficial Ministry viewpoint of Harry Potter- dangerous, unbalanced, Dumbledore's favorite. Dear Lord, this is bad. And- he mentioned something about Dolores Umbridge gaining more power- this must be the "Hogwarts' High Inquisitor" crap that Severus and I have been hearing about from our contacts at the Ministry. _

* * *

"I felt bad for Trelawney and I usually want to rip my ears out in that class," huffed Hermione, crossing her arms. "Honestly, Severus, that woman is horrid."

Severus raised an eyebrow, the most he could do with the potion he was making. His lab was as pristine as always, and he was busy with something complicated. Hermione itched to try her hand at this- but it was still in experimental stages.

"I know it's nothing new," Hermione added, sighing again. "But really- she walks around here like she's the freaking  _ queen of all things _ and it is off-putting."

Severus gave her a look she correctly interpreted to mean,  _ but now she is the queen of all things. _

Hermione threw her hands up. "You're not helping, Severus. Now that she has all this power, I have no idea what she's going to do with it! I mean- she hates half breeds, but instead of going after Professor Flitwick she goes after Trelawney. Well… I do get it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Professor Flitwick is competent but old. She probably figures that she'll make him feel unwelcome, and eventually he'll retire of his own free will."

Severus dropped something in his potion and stepped back quickly to avoid the plume of fire. That part was done and it was stable- he wiped his hands on a cloth and left the counter. "That was what I was thinking. But you must admit, Flitwick is more respectable than Trelawney."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I agree. Why does Dumbledore even keep Divination as a class? If there was a competent teacher, maybe I'd understand but-" Hermione stopped, clear eyes focused on Snape's face. He felt an urge to look away, but held her gaze. "Severus. There's a reason, isn't there."

"Hermione-" Severus sighed, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "There are things that Dumbledore does that no one can explain."

The bright lights of the potion lab made him look older, wearier. Hermione tilted her head up to look at him. "Severus. There is a reason. And you know it."

He glared at her. "Yes, I do. And you do not." She glared at him in return.

"Is it important?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms.  _ Why would Dumbledore keep an incompetent teacher? He wants to keep her close- she's a Seer, so maybe... but she's never predicted anything big. Unless- the Order is guarding a prophecy. Maybe she knows who made it? _

Severus frowned at her. "Yes, it is. No, I'm not telling you. If you want to know this one, you'll have to ask Dumbledore. We are finished here." He enunciated each word clearly, making his tension clear.

Hermione tensed as well, evaluating the various outcomes of standing her ground or giving in. Eventually, she backed down. "Alright." She checked her watch. "Dumbledore wanted to meet with us about the Order meeting on Wednesday, by the way. We should get going."

Warily, Severus tidied up his work area, avoiding looking at Hermione. "How did he contact you? I thought he was avoiding Potter?"

"He is," Hermione answered. "But there was a note in my private room from him. And sometimes he stops me during my patrols sometimes."

"I don't see why he made you a Prefect," Severus snapped. "You have enough on your plate as it is, with Potter."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It would have been extremely weird if I wasn't made Gryffindor girl Prefect, you know that. Are you ready to go?"

"Head up without me," Severus ordered her. "I'll meet you there."

* * *

"Miss Granger, Severus," said Dumbledore with a nod, blue eyes twinkling brightly beneath his spectacles. "Lemon drop?" he offered, holding out a small brown paper packet filled with his specially treated candy.

Hermione shook her head, taking a seat. "No, thank you, Professor." Severus raised one eyebrow at the Headmaster, taking a seat next to the slim girl. With a sigh, the Headmaster tucked the lemon drops away.

"Very well," he said, sighing again. "It's always straight to business with you two." He adjusted his glasses and turned his penetrating gaze on Hermione. "I forgot to ask last time. How did your arrangement with the Safe House and Grimmauld Place work over the summer?"

Hermione regarded him with calm eyes. "Excellently, sir. I made sure I turned back early enough that no one noticed, and was able to get a full day of work in at the Safe House." She gave him a tight smile. She had spent enough time around the Headmaster to know when something was up. Next to her, Severus was tense, watching Dumbledore with wary eyes.

He nodded slowly, then turned his head to ask Severus, "And how fare your meetings with the Dark Lord?"

"We have already discussed this," snapped the dour Potions Master. His eyes flicked over to Hermione, then back to the Headmaster. "Hermione has an understanding as well."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes annoyed Severus to no end. "And that is where I come in with my proposition, my boy!"

"Which is?" Severus asked snarkily. "I'm positively  _ brimming  _ with excitement." He crossed his arms over his chest. Snape was dressed in his customary, heavily buttoned, black robes- Hermione found herself missing the simple white shirt and black trousers he had been wearing in the lab.

Hermione hid a small smile, but under the humor was a touch of fear.  _ What has he come up with this time? _ she wondered. "According to Kingsley and Andromeda, Miss Granger is extraordinarily capable of taking large amounts of information, sorting the usable from the useless, and then connecting hypothetical dots, so to speak. That, combined with the situation we have at hand and the amount of sensitive information she needs to effectively protect Mr. Potter, makes her a perfect candidate for your liaison with the Outer Circle," Dumbledore said enthusiastically.

Hermione resisted the urge to flinch, expecting Snape to either leap out of his seat and yell at the Headmaster, or make a few derisive comments at his (or her) expense. When after a moment, neither of those things happened, Hermione glanced sideways at the spy. She was surprised to find him frowning, yet silent, obviously considering what the Headmaster had said.

"For once, Headmaster," Severus said slowly. "I find myself agreeing with you. She's already been inducted into the Inner Circle, and we were planning to publicly announce her to the Outer Circle. I- I can see an arrangement like this working."

"What kind of arrangement?" Hermione demanded, pulling a hairband off her wrist to pull her hair back from her face. "You said I would be a liaison, as well as Harry's- well, Harry's bodyguard?"

Dumbledore nodded. "You would meet Severus after the revels, and he would give you his report. If there was something urgent, you would take the information to me immediately. If not, Miss Granger, you would format it in a comprehensible way and either give it to me, or present at the Order Meetings. You could dispense necessary information to Kingsley, for the Aurors, Arthur for his department, or other members as needed. That way, no one would know the full picture except for the three of us. The Order need never know exactly who the information came from- they would know it was from a spy, and most of them know that apart from Severus, there are several other spies. But that way, if captured, Voldemort would see the information coming from someone other than Severus, and think he had a spy in his midst. After all, the Outer Circle does not know Severus' identity. They know him only as our spy."  _ The three of us knowing the full picture? You mean you. _

"It would be relatively safer for me," Severus said under his breath, almost as if he was talking to himself. "The Dark Lord has not been trusting- if he was to see me passing along secrets in a person's mind, then my life would be forfeit in an instant." Hermione winced- she had seen him coming back from a few meetings earlier in the summer.

Hermione smoothed her skirt down nervously, glancing between Dumbledore and Snape. "Are my Legilimency defenses strong enough to protect you?" she asked Severus directly. "If I was captured, could I put you in danger?"

He regarded her with his calm slate eyes, then nodded. "We have discussed this, Hermione. I trained you, and I have full confidence in your abilities."  _ And anyway, I've known about Severus being a spy for years. I can do this. _

"Then I'll do it," she said quietly. "We should figure out a more thorough system as soon as possible." Her mind began running through possibilities, codes, and plans.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said cheerily, clapping his wrinkled hands together. "Severus, would you mind escorting Miss Granger to the Grimmauld Place for the Order meeting next week? Wednesday I have a meeting with Professor Umbridge to discuss her new position as High Inquisitor, and will have to leave directly from here."

The Potions Master agreed, and he and Hermione took their leave of the Headmaster's office, Severus holding the door open for Hermione, then nodding at Dumbledore in farewell. Silently, the two walked down the slowly spiralling staircase. The gargoyles jumped aside, and they exited the Headmaster's Tower.

The halls of Hogwarts were almost eerily still; Hermione glanced at the shadowy corners uneasily even as the moonlight filtered through the large glass windows. "When do you think you'll have the time to sort all this out?" she asked after a moment, watching the tall man with the hooked nose.

"Now, I suppose," he said, turning down a passageway that led to the dungeons. "We can do this in my quarters, if that is convenient."

She nodded, and they began the descent to the dungeons. If the empty halls had been discomforting, the dark and cool dungeons were worse. No one was about, no Slytherins or teachers. She let out a little sigh of relief when they reached Severus' office.

Hermione watched carefully as Severus entered his quarters, as the stone in the wall read his hand and the passphrase, revealing the hidden door. She had spent some of the time waiting for him in his quarters trying to figure out all the little components of his security system. "Does it recognize your palm print?" she asked, passing under the archway.

"Yes," he said. "It also registers the warmth and my pulse. Even if they had my hand, they could not pass through." He followed her. "Same for yours. When I added you to the wards, do you remember the scan it did?"

Hermione waited for him to unlock the Potions cabinet against the wall, closing her eyes as she walked through the seemingly real glass vials. "Yes. And what if they were Polyjuicing you? Same hand, same heart rhythm…"

"That is the reason for the passphrase," he explained, moving to the kitchen. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," she responded, following him. "So what if they Polyjuiced you and had the password?" She leaned against the wall, following the deft movements of his hands with her eyes. He had several fat pots, all labelled neatly in his own hand.  _ Morning, Evening, Spice, Earl Gray, Breakfast, Calming, Sleep, Alertness…He makes his own tea, _ Hermione realized.  _ One of the benefits of being a Potions Master, I suppose. _

Severus spared her a glance, raising an eyebrow. "First they would have to find that the fake yet heavily warded chambers connected to my office, are, in fact, false. And then they would need to know the exact stone in the wall, as well as the lengthy passphrase to enter my second false set of chambers. And then they would have to figure out those ones are useless as well. And finally, the Potions cabinet. They need the key, first off. Breaking the glass breaks the spell. Three turns of the key opens the door to my chambers, two turns opens into the other end of the castle, and one is just a potions cabinet." He glared slightly at her. "Any more comments on my security precautions?"

"Nope," Hermione said, giving him a cheeky grin. "But I do have a few questions about other things. For example, the-"

"Too bad," Severus said, cutting her off. "Tea's ready, and we need to discuss how to make this arrangement work." He set the teapot on the tray with two cups, and carried it to the sitting room, Hermione following after a moment.

They took their time preparing the tea to their liking, sipping in silence for a moment or two before beginning to plan. Hermione glanced around the room again, her eyes lingering on the bookcases. But she turned her thoughts to the problem at hand.

"We need a way for you to contact me when you are going to a meeting and give me vital information quickly," Hermione said seriously, eyes gaining a faraway spaciousness as she thought. "Something quick and easy, inconspicuous. We already have the watches- would that work?" she asked.

"We would have to alter some of the spell work already done," Severus said with a sigh. "Give me yours. I've been using my pocket watch, and I think it will still work." He stood and began to unbutton his robes.

Hermione stared at him, going unnoticed by Severus. He peeled away his teaching robes, revealing the clothes he wore underneath. Hermione had to remind herself not to suck in a breath- it never failed to shock her, how different Severus Snape looked when he removed his robes _. _ He wore a white button-down shirt tucked into black pants, the harsh colors somehow softening his even harsher persona. His frame was long- Hermione had known he was a tall man, he used his height to intimidate people all the time but he looked so- so lanky and so thin! His long dark hair was tucked behind an ear, and in the firelight of the dungeons, just for a moment, his face was less severe. And then he was scowling again, pulling a pocket watch on a chain out of his pocket.

"What charms are you thinking of?" he asked, turning toward her. She blushed, blinking to focus on the watch he was holding out. It was simple, heavy; its chain was unremarkable, the outside case of the watch decorated with thin carvings. He flicked it open- a simple enough watch, three hands, one smaller circle with the date and another with the symbols.

She put down her teacup, nodding eagerly. "An adapted Protean, for sure" she murmured, leaning in to see the watch closer. She unclasped her own watch, sliding it off her wrist.

Severus nodded. "We want to keep the symbols and the connection there. We could layer the two charms, or we could try stripping all the enchantments off and redoing them."

"It would be more successful if we tried to integrate the Protean charm we have now and another enchantment for words or meanings," decided Hermione. "What we need is something that can pass messages as well. And it really would be best if it was wandless. What if we used rings instead? Kept the watches as they are and had rings with messages appearing around the rim? You have it in your wand hand- no need to conspicuously tap a watch."

Severus shook his head once, sharply. "I never wear jewelry. It would be suspicious and therefore attract attention. And a disguising charm would not work because I would have to be able to see it at all times."

Hermione leaned back into the chair, rubbing her temples. "Right. So reconfiguring the enchantments it is, then. That'll take time- what else do we need to get together?"

"We don't need an excuse to meet, because we can do that on your turnarounds. If anyone happens upon us, you are in my office to check on scores or your potion. We need somewhere for you to record information that no one else can read, we need codes for exchanging information in front of other people, and I need to bring you fully up-to-date on all the information I have on the Death Eaters," listed Severus. "Anything else you can think of?"

Hermione bit her lip, turning over a few ideas. "A Pensieve, perhaps? So I can watch the meetings?"

"Absolutely not," Severus snapped, the muscle in his jaw jumping. "What happens there is nothing you want to see, Hermione."

"I may not want to see it, but I do think it would be best," Hermione insisted, leaning forward earnestly. "Severus, I may catch something you won't. Or I could see someone else's expressions, or hear conversations that you didn't. In a Pensieve, it may be your memory, but included are things that you only heard or comprehended subconsciously."

She glanced down at where his long fingers were tightly gripping his knee- digging into the black fabric of his trousers. "Then I will go in and see for myself," he said, every word clipped and controlled.

"What if we go together?" suggested Hermione. "Severus. The point of this-"

"It's time-consuming. A waste of your time," said Severus, dismissing her. "We should use the time we have now to come up with usable codes."

Hermione wanted to press the issue, but again, she backed down. It rankled her sometimes, the way he used his authority to shut her down. But this time wasn't the right time to protest it. "Alright. And tomorrow I think I will ask Harry about teaching a defense group."

* * *

Hermione had to admit, Harry's comment about Voldemort sticking out of the back of Quirrel's head, while certainly one of his finest moments, was definitely not his most reasonable.  _ I can either throw myself into detention with him, or try to preserve my role as perfect Prefect Hermione. Well, Harry needs to learn to keep himself out of detention and I need to set a good example. Taking the higher road this time. _

Tuesday morning, when both McGonagall and Angelina discovered Harry's new detentions, were certainly not fun. Hermione was already trying to plan for proposing the idea of a defense group to Harry, trying to prepare herself for revelation to the Outer Circle of the Order, and Severus had informed her of a hatching plan to assassinate Harry. To make matters worse, Harry took her distraction as disapproval, and ignored her throughout Charms.

Even so, it seemed that both her and Harry's moods were raised by the prospect of seeing Umbridge try to 'inspect' Professor Minerva McGonagall's Transfiguration class.

_ This will be lovely, _ Hermione thought wickedly, accepting a mouse from Lavender.  _ Umbridge is doing that stupid little fake cough- and look at that, McGonagall shuts her down. Lovely. Absolutely lovely. _

Harry had a smile on his face, and was whispering to Ron, so she figured he was enjoying it as well. On the other hand, Umbridge observing Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Grubbly-Plank was far more worrying. Hermione could feel Umbridge's satisfaction with Grubbly-Plank, as if she was ready to dispose of Hagrid and have the woman take his place.

That night, when Harry had already left from dinner for his detentions, Hermione left Ron with a muttered excuse about the library, and left for Severus' office.

He was there, grading papers, when she slipped in and removed her concealing charms. "Hullo," she said, feeling a bit awkward after the many arguments they had fought the day before. "Do you have any solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles I could borrow?"

Severus didn't look up from the papers. "My private stores, third shelf. Help yourself."

"Thanks," she said, frowning at him where he couldn't see. "I'm proposing the Defense group to Harry tonight."

Again, he didn't look at her. "I'm hoping it will go well," Hermione continued. "Any suggestions?"

"You're competent," Severus said dismissively. "Report to me tomorrow on how Potter reacts."

The murtlap was where he had said it would be. "Tomorrow I have the Order meeting," Hermione told him. "I'll be a bit late."

He exhaled loudly. "So be it. If you don't mind, I'm trying to muddle through the seventh years' summer homework."

Hermione laughed. "Have you read Fred Weasley's yet?"

Finally, he looked up, a particularly sour expression on his face. "Don't think I didn't detect your influence," he told her tartly. "I should take points away for cheating."

"I didn't write it for him," protested Hermione. "Please. You expect them to develop a potion over the summer- the Weasleys have already done several. I just helped him fine-tune it so it doesn't explode every third time."

He rolled his eyes at her. "So I should be thanking you for preserving my classroom and cauldrons instead of reprimanding you for corrupting my students?"

"Save your reprimands for someone they'll affect," Hermione told him innocently. "I know how much time and effort you put into making every one memorable."

He scowled at her, and she laughed again, ducking out of his office to his mutter of "Impertinent minx!"

* * *

The Common Room was nearing emptiness when Hermione returned. Save Ron, the only other students were those trying to complete the loads of N.E.W.T. level homework their professors had lavished on them. Even as she walked to the corner where Ron was waiting, three of them packed up their work and disappeared up the staircases.

Crookshanks wound around her feet, and she picked him up with one arm and held the murtlap tentacles in the other. "Hello, my lovely," she whispered to him. "When Harry comes in, be nice to him? He needs it."

Her cat meowed at her approvingly, waiting for her to sit before curling up her lap.

"What's that?" Ron asked curiously, eyeing the thick yellow liquid she carried. "You're not going to drink it, are you?"

Hermione fought the urge to shoot him a withering glare. Instead, she just sighed. "No, Ron. It's for Harry's hand. I have an idea and I'm thinking he'll be more open to listening if he isn't in pain. Can I have that piece of parchment?"

Ron shrugged and handed it to her. "So what's the big plan, then?" He waited for his answer as she closed her eyes, composing herself before transforming the parchment into a sturdy little bowl.

Earlier, she had decided that if Ron was on board, he would be a valuable ally in convincing Harry. Even now she had no qualms about telling him her idea. However, she did take issue with other people hearing, so she discreetly placed a few muffling charms in place. "I want Harry to start teaching a Defense Against the Dark Arts class," she told Ron plainly. "A club, but one where he teaches us what we need to know. Obviously Professor Umbridge is completely useless- this will give us a place to practice and Harry is the best in our class at Defense."

Probably because she had been half-expecting Ron to gape at her, Hermione was pleasantly surprised when Ron actually considered her idea. "It sounds like a fat lot of work," he said frankly, stretching to rub the back of his neck. "I know I'm already behind on homework and it's only the second week."

"This is more important than homework," Hermione said quietly.  _ There is so much at stake here. _

Now Ron did gape at her. "Hermione! I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important to you than homework."

She winced, and looked down.  _ As if you knew. _ "Ron, I know Harry and I haven't talked about it much, but-" she looked him in the eye. "After what happened last year, I've definitely sorted out my priorities."

He grinned at her weakly. "So now where does expulsion fall? Before or after death?" he joked.

The corner of her mouth twitched up. "After," she admitted. "If we don't want to die, we need to learn Defense."

"And you think Harry' s the best one to teach it?" Ron asked, with a hint of incredulity. "Hermione, I know he's faced You-Know-Who more times than anyone else, but he's not exactly Lupin or Moody."

"I know," acknowledged Hermione. "But he's a great leader. He'll figure it out. I would rather put my life in Harry's hands than in those of Dolores Umbridge."

"Good point," said Ron. "Look. Here he comes. Are you going to ask him now?"

Hermione shrugged. "Why not?" She didn't cancel the listening spells, even though the room was now empty.

As Harry drew closer, she could see better how haggard he looked. The scarf he had wrapped around his hand was soaked through with blood, and Hermione was suddenly very glad she had bothered to get the murtlap.

"Here," she said once Harry was inside the spells. She pushed the bowl toward him. "Soak your hand in this. It's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help."

Even she could see the worry on his face, but it sank into relief as the solution eased the pain. Crookshanks left her lap and curled into Harry's, purring quietly. Harry smiled gratefully, and started to rub behind Crookshank's ears. "Thanks, Mione," he said, happily.

She and Ron let him rest a moment, but it was growing late. Hermione glanced at the clock, then put a gentle hand on Harry's arm. "She's a dreadful woman, Harry," Hermione said in a low voice. "We can't directly retaliate against her. But I have an idea."

Ron nodded helpfully. "She does," he said. "Better than my idea anyway."

"What was your idea?" Harry asked curiously.

The redhead's cheeks flushed, and coughed. "Poison."

"Which we are not going to do," Hermione said firmly.  _ Yet, anyway. We'll see how bad she gets. _ "Awful as she is, she's here to stay. Which is bad news for us, considering that we have our O.W.L.s this year."

Now Harry was starting to get suspicious. "Where are you heading with this, Hermione?"

"I think it would be a good idea to start a Defense group and learn what we need to learn ourselves," explained Hermione.

It was more a feeling than the look on Harry's face that let her know he was ready to shut it down. "Harry, look at me," she ordered. Reluctantly, his green eyes met hers. She didn't slip into his mind- but she did squeeze his arm. "Harry Potter, you have faced Voldemort how many times?"

He didn't look away, although she was sure he wanted to. "Four times, in some form or another."

"And I was with you the last time," Hermione said, voice dropping to a whisper. "Harry, who got me out of there alive?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "Harry, I wouldn't have made it out of that graveyard if it hadn't been for you. You are the best in our year at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and more importantly, you know what you're doing."

"You're the best," argued Harry. The fall wind rattled the windowpanes behind Ron, and the fire guttered for a moment, flickering on all their faces.

Hermione laughed harshly. "Harry, the last exam we had with a competent professor, I couldn't get passed the Boggart." She had told the boys it was Professor McGonagall telling her she had failed. It was a lie. "Honestly, you would be a better teacher than Umbridge."

"Yeah," Ron interjected, drawing both of their attention. "I mean- first year, you saved the stone from You-Know-Who.

"But that was luck!" protested Harry. "That wasn't skill-"

"Second year," Ron interrupted, speaking over Harry, "you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle."

Harry's face was turning red. "Ron, if Fawkes hadn't shown up-"

"Third year," said Ron, voice growing louder, "you fought off about a hundred dementors at once-"

"That was a fluke, if the Time Turner-"

"Last year," shouted Ron. "You fought off You-Know-Who again-"

"Listen to me!" shouted Harry back at him. "Just listen, alright? None of that was skill, all of it was luck I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I didn't survive because I'm good at Defense Against the Dark Arts but because help arrived at the right time or I guessed right."

Ron laughed. "Harry! This-"

"STOP LAUGHING!" Harry roared. Hermione was instantly grateful for the silencing spells she had cast. "You haven't faced him Ron! You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own- your own brain or guts or whatever- like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered or tortured or watching your friend die- they've never taught us that in their classes what it's like to deal with things like that- and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here alive-"

Hermione rose, clenching her own jaw. "Harry, stop." He glared at her, and she placed a hand on his arm. "This is why you need to teach the class. Because this is exactly what happens and it is nothing like what that stupid book Umbridge is having us read is saying. They need to know what facing the Dark Lord is like."

Harry didn't say anything, but looked at her pleadingly. She hugged him. "It's alright, Harry. Just think about it." He squeezed her tightly.

"Goodnight," she said, easing out of Harry's grasp and patting Ron's hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 16. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading! I've been loving all of your comments and kudos. I've had quite the stressful week (life of a social worker - rape threats from clients are NOT my fav) so I'm looking forward to escaping into fanfiction! 
> 
> Also for one shots! I have another one posted and may have another one up in the middle of the week!
> 
> See you next Saturday!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! I hope everyone is staying safe from covid-19! 
> 
> Beta'd once again by Sorasradust!

**_Chapter 17_ **

Hermione pressed her palm to the secret stone that hid the entrance to Severus' chambers, whispering her password to gain entrance. She had her special key on a chain around her neck, the same one that held her Time Turner. She locked and unlocked the potion cabinet three times, then entered the real chambers.

The warm smell of Severus' own tea blend greeted her, and Hermione breathed in deeply. "Severus?" she called out. "I'm here."

"I'm making something," Severus called back. "I'm sure you can amuse yourself for ten minutes." She snorted, then grabbed a book from his bookshelf, poured herself some tea, and got comfortable.

It turned out to be more like half an hour than ten minutes, and when Severus finally emerged from his lab he was decidedly disgruntled.

"What went wrong?" Hermione asked sympathetically, pouring Severus a cup of tea and handing it to him. She winced, internally. It was her instinct to be mothering and understanding- it was one of the reasons Harry's and Ron had a habit of coming to her with their troubles. She normally didn't judge and she was kind and was a good listener. However much that behavior endeared her to her friends, she doubted it was something Severus would appreciate.

But to her surprise, the Potion Master didn't snap at her. Instead, he collapsed into a chair, carefully balancing the mug of tea, and scowled at thin air. "I'm working on a new potion, and it isn't going well."

Hermione's curiosity was piqued. "New potion? How new? What is it?"

"Calm yourself, Hermione," he huffed, sending her a look. "One day someone will slit your throat just to make you stop asking questions."

She laughed. "You like my questions," she told him, a small smirk on her own face.

For some reason, his face softened. "I do," he said, so softly she almost didn't hear him. "I am working on a potion that will give the drinker enough energy to make it through several sleepless nights without too many bad side effects," he said abruptly. "With the Dark Lord's return to power, I foresee the need to stay awake, alert, and unaddicted."

Hermione frowned, unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself. "Unaddicted?" she asked quietly.

Severus did not look at her. "At the end of the last war, I went through a particularly painful detoxification, an experience I have no desire to repeat again, should the Dark Lord fall."

It made her terribly sad to think of a younger Severus alone and in pain at the end of the first war. "Do you want any help?" she asked. "I'm not a Potions Master, but I could help record trials and-"

"I would be grateful for any aid," Severus said, interrupting Hermione. "Your suggestions would be useful. I suspect you might also want to use this, should it work. Using the Time Turner too much can get you in trouble."

Hermione beamed at him, mind already turning over several options. "What have you done already?"

"I'm trying to create a blend of a Pepper-Up Potion, a Wit-Sharpening Potion, and then inverting the effects of both Dreamless Sleep and Draught of Living Death," Severus said, setting down the mug and gesturing excitedly with his hands. "Tell me why."

It was a test, and Hermione knew it. "Pepper-Up for alertness, but also to drive away illness. You get sick more easily if you're tired or stressed, so that should help out the immune system. Wit-Sharpening, again for alertness. However, you'll need to make sure that the combination isn't too powerful, and I'm certain there are ingredients in each that react poorly. The inverse of Dreamless Sleep for the feeling of being rested. Draught of Living Death, the same."

He smiled at her, a genuine smile that showed his crooked teeth. "Excellent. We can discuss it more after you tell me how everything went."

Hermione sank back into her chair and sighed. "Last night went well enough. I got Harry to promise to think about it, at least. I'll give him some time then prod. As for the Order meeting…" She let her voice trail off.

The majority of the Order of the Phoenix- the Outer Circle- had no idea that Severus Snape was an Order member. They were the Outer Circle, that met perhaps once a month. The Inner Circle was not much smaller than the Outer by much- Dumbledore trusted many people. In addition, many of the members of the Inner Circle were not there because of special talents or being particularly useful or insightful- they were there to garner support. The Weasleys, for instance. Molly and Arthur had no real contributions, but Dumbledore wished to make them feel important, and he felt he could trust them.

The true Inner Circle was really comprised of only a select number- Severus, Kingsley, Moody, and now by default, Hermione.

"How did our dear Order of the Phoenix react to the old goat's announcement?" Severus drawled, a hint of wicked delight in his face.

Hermione made a moue of distaste. "You can probably guess. They made comments on everything from my age, to my gender, to my blood status." There had been yelling, threats of leaving, and plenty of red faces before Dumbledore had risen from his chair, and pronounced his full support of her with the most gravitas Hermione had ever seen him show. Hermione had then nodded to him and proceeded to make it extremely clear to the Order that this information was to be kept extremely secret from anyone who had not been in that room, especially her classmates. Dumbledore had sworn them to secrecy, and then there had been nothing the Order could do. But the comments still hurt- especially those about how she was inadequate not only because she was a girl, but because she was a Muggleborn.

"Blood status?" demanded Severus, all hilarity gone from his voice. His hand clenched on the arm of his chair. "Don't tell me they were against you protecting Potter because you are a  _ Muggleborn _ ?"

"Are you surprised?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "Of course they did. They may be fighting the Dark Lord because it's the right thing to do, but supporting the Order does not mean the centuries of blood prejudice are erased overnight. You know this, Severus."

He frowned at her. "There are times when I wonder why we are even fighting this war in the first place," he muttered. "First there was Grindelwald, now the Dark Lord. There will be someone after him. Blood prejudice will never end in the Wizard World."

"Maybe it will," Hermione said, feeling bleakness bleed through what she knew was naïveté. "We have to hope for something or we'll expire from hopelessness."

In his dark eyes, Hermione could see the same sinking feeling she felt in her own soul. "Times like this make me want to drink," Severus admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Hermione's eyes were drawn to the small table half-hidden in shadows. The light from the fire winked over what looked like crystal flasks of liquor. If she had to guess, she would say oak matured mead for the amber one. The Firewhiskey was easily recognizable, a bottle she saw every Hogsmeade weekend at the Three Broomsticks. A smaller decanter held what might have been rum, and another that she was certain held Benedictine. Most of the decanters were at least half empty.

"Admiring my collection?" Severus drawled, smirking humorlessly when she flushed.

"Do you drink often?" ventured Hermione timidly.

He snorted. "No. It's too dangerous, so you can reserve your sanctimonious judgments, Hermione. I indulge perhaps twice a year."

Some part of her wanted to shrivel and disappear; another was desperate to know more about the enigmatic man who had been occupying her thoughts all too often. "I wouldn't blame you," she told him, feeling the truth behind her own words. "I've never been drunk, but I've wondered before if it would make me forget. And compared to you, what I'd like to forget is child's play."

Severus stared at her for a long moment, long fingers unconsciously stroking the arm of the chair. "Do not belittle your own experiences," he said finally. "There is more to come. Fear is valid, Hermione. Any hate, any pain, any sorrow. You cannot compare what you feel to what someone else feels."

"Why the sudden wisdom?" Hermione asked, a prick of annoyance blooming in her spine.  _ He treats me like a child. _

His expression tightened. "If it is unwelcome, then by all means…"

Hermione huffed out a sigh. "No! It's not, I'm sorry. I- I just- I don't know." Confusion and shame prickled at her under the thin layer of dissipating anger.

"I do," Severus said, in a tone Hermione recognized not as a sanctimonious judgment but as something different. "Tell me, Hermione. Who treats you like an adult? Not like a fifteen-year-old girl, but as a woman of- how old are you now? He frowned at her, trying to remember.

"Eighteen," Hermione answered, thinking for a moment. "Approximately two years of Time Turner use. In February, I'll be nineteen."

Severus nodded. "Who treats you like you are eighteen, Hermione? Like someone in possession of their full magical powers and mind, who can make their own decisions?"

She stared at the fire, thinking. "Some of my professors know, and yet, it hasn't sunk in for them because they see me acting like a child every day in class. My friends don't regard me as one of them, but they don't treat me like an adult either. Dumbledore, possibly, realizes this, but he acts as if he is the only person in Britain with a mind of their own sometimes. Even though my true position has been revealed to the Order, it will be a long while before they can change what they believe." She turned her gaze upon him, upon the eyes that appeared so misleadingly black. "You do, sometimes."

Slowly, Severus inclined his head. "When?"

Hermione was startled and a bit confused by the question but answered anyway. "When we talk, sometimes. But-" she stopped. She didn't want to offend him, didn't want to risk unleashing his temper.

Severus waved a hand. "Continue," he ordered.

"When we argue, even you pull the 'I am your teacher' card or do something to remind me that you've got twenty years on me," Hermione said suddenly, the words spilling from her tongue. "Severus, even when it is just the two of us I feel that as much as you may respect my opinion or listen to me, ultimately I am a  _ child _ to every single person I –"

"Stop that," Severus snarled suddenly. "Think back to the last half hour. How many times have you used my given name?"

Her own expression was mulish as she stared back at Severus. "You may let me call you by your first name, but how often do you avoid using mine? I can feel it, how much you want to use 'Miss Granger' sometimes!"

Severus scowled right back at her. "Do you know how many people I call by their first names? Minerva, Albus, you, Lucius, Narcissa, and Bellatrix. I only actually like about three people on that list."

Hermione was genuinely surprised. "Narcissa or Lucius?"

For some reason, the tension defused and Severus smirked. "Lucius. The only Black sister whom I can actually stand is Andromeda Tonks."

Hermione grinned back at him. "I know. I've never seen Bellatrix Lestrange, but Narcissa Malfoy was glaring at me like I was polluting her air the entire Quidditch World Cup."

"Be thankful Bellatrix is still in Azkaban," Severus said, suddenly somber. "She- she is the only person crazy enough to fall in love with the Dark Lord  _ after _ seeing what he is capable of."

That thought made Hermione want to retch. "She's capable of loving  _ him _ ?"

"Dumbledore says that everyone is capable of loving and being loved," Severus said quietly. "I really have no idea. She may just be obsessed with him. Either way-"

"It's creepy," Hermione finished, wrinkling her nose. "Doesn't she have a husband?"

Severus scoffed. "In the Wizarding World," he said, voice adopting a lecturing tone, "Most purebloods have affairs. As long as it isn't with a brother or sister, no one really cares. There are spells to ensure that only the husband's heir will be born-"

"I know, Severus," interrupted Hermione. "But back to what we were talking about before."

The Potions Master shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Hermione, you are in a difficult position, one that wasn't of your own making."

He regarded her carefully, long fingers tapping a rhythm on the arm of his chair. "You are significantly older than your peers, to the point where they aren't really your peers any longer. You've advanced your magical knowledge, and even your emotional maturity is far greater than even your average eighteen-year-old. Add to that the… quality of your closest friends-" he could sense she was about to protest and held up a hand. "Let me finish. Neither Mr. Potter nor Mr. Weasley have shown any great intelligence or finer qualities. They act like children of eleven or twelve, not like boys who will be men in two years. You cannot derive much intellectual stimulation from them; to you they provide companionship. However, even in that aspect they frequently value their interactions with each other over their interactions with you. Then we approach your tasks, unfairly bestowed upon you by myself and the Headmaster."

Severus was silent for a short time. "You watch over Potter constantly, you track his every movement, you occasionally invade his mind, and you discuss everything you learn with me, a man he hates. That is not the action of a friend. By continually doing this, Hermione, you take advantage of the relationship between yourself and Potter, and exploit it, for his own safety. But because of this, there is heavy guilt on one side of the friendship. You don't have any true friends- not even Nymphadora Tonks. She was a teacher, and friend sometimes, but if I am correct you have drifted apart. Miss Weasley might be clever, but she is young. Mr. Weasley, is, in my opinion, boorish and not overly loyal."

"So what do I have?" Hermione asked bitterly. "Look at this! The only person I actually talk to honestly is my  _ Potions Professor _ ."

"Whom most of the school hates," Severus said, a hint of wry humor in his voice. "And I'm the one who got you in this mess in the first place."

That took Hermione aback. "Wait-" she said, confusion overtaking her. "What do you mean?"

"Dumbledore came up with the idea for a protector for Potter," Severus said warily, a feeling of dread creeping over his flesh. "He told me to select someone. A child."

"And… you picked me?" Hermione asked, eyes growing wide, although he wasn't sure if it was horror or surprise. "I always thought Dumbledore actually…" Her voice trailed off, and she stared into the fire. "Just give me a moment to process."

Severus suddenly wished he did have a tumbler full of something in his hand.  _ She didn't know- or she didn't want to admit it. She'll be furious when she's finished 'processing.' God damn it, Severus, you really do have to ruin everything in your life. You've just taken several minutes to get her to roundaboutly admit that she thinks of you as something that's not-quite-teacher but also not-quite-friend and you were going to offer to change that and you've screwed everything up you bloody fuck. It's Lily all over again. I should never have told her, I should have let her believe it was Dumbledore. _

After what felt like an age, she looked directly at him again. "Thank you," she said, voice low and throaty. It sounded like she was holding back tears, and Severus remembered each of the times she had cried in front of him and how her voice had sounded.

"Why are you  _ thanking _ me?" he said caustically, lashing out in his surprise. "Didn't we just go over several of the reasons why your life is awful, courtesy of me?"

"My life isn't awful," Hermione said firmly, conviction finding its way into her voice. "Severus, if you hadn't chosen me, if you had chosen Ron or Neville, I would be so boring. Ordinary, and quite possibly dead. Or Harry would be dead and we'd all be collectively screwed. I personally feel like you made the right choice. It hasn't been a field full of sunshine and butterflies but maybe it's made me a better person than I would have been otherwise."

"Gryffindor," he muttered. "Always so-"

"I prefer optimistic to naïve," Hermione interrupted, grinning suddenly. "And also: you bloody wanker. Why did you wait so long to tell me? Here I was having conflicting feelings about  _ Dumbledore _ when I could-" she stopped suddenly.

Severus frowned. "I thought you'd be upset with me," he said, scowling.

"Do you regret it?" she asked.

"Of course I do," Severus said, glaring at her. "I had to look at three innocent children, and then take one of them and- the bastard left all the choice in my hands, to keep his shiny and soft and white. It's his modus operandi."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Let me be a naïve, optimistic Gryffindor and say that I'm just a little glad that you chose me."

It was obviously not something that had occurred to Severus. "Why?" his tone was scathing, but Hermione was used to it by now.

"Yes, I might not be able to relate to almost anyone and almost no one treats me like I'm in possession of an adult mind, but I also have had opportunities I wouldn't have had if I hadn't agreed to become Harry's protector. And I did agree, Severus. It isn't like you forced me to do it against my will. I'm sure that if I had refused that day in Dumbledore's office, he would have Obliviated me and sent me on my merry way."

Severus nodded. "That is true." He reached over to the table and poured himself more tea.

Hermione shrugged. "I know. But if I hadn't been given all this training, I would have spent my summers with my parents, being ignored and afraid of frightening them by sneezing. I wouldn't have learned much, I would have returned to Hogwarts even more emotionally dependent on Harry and Ron, and I would have freaked out the next year when Harry was selected for the Tournament. You probably wouldn't have known about Moody, and might be dead. And then we're all dead. And Harry might have failed the second or even first task. The series of events that led to the current state of affairs would have changed so much… I'm a stronger person, I'm more independent, and I know that I'm doing my part to help win this war."

They sat in silence for a few moments. "How despicably Gryffindorish of you," Severus said finally.

Hermione giggled- she couldn't help it. "Sorry. For the sake of my tender heart, I think I'll continue pretending I have friends."

"Oh, really?" Severus said, widening his eyes comically. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione, don't get too attached."

"I'm helpless," Hermione said, laughing again. "Let's see. In no particular order, my friends consist of one of my professors who is an Order member, a Death Eater, and a spy, two good-natured but often quite ridiculous boys, an old goat who has been masterminding my life for the past five years or so, and a few Aurors and Ministry workers who are twice my age."

Severus shrugged. "That's a few more than I have."

Hermione sipped at her tea and tilted her head to regard him carefully. "Let's see. You have me, Dumbledore, McGonagall, the Malfoys, um… Flitwick?"

"I suppose," Severus admitted. "So a manipulative old coot, a Scottish terror, Blond and Blonder, and a pint-sized dueling master. And a teenaged menace."

Lazily, Hermione flicked her wand and sent a pillow flying at his head. He deflected it just as easily. "You need to work on your-"

"No," Hermione said firmly. "Here- let's say that here in this sitting room when we're enjoying a nice cuppa-"

Severus stared at her. "Hermione that is going to be among some of the most ridiculous things you've proposed."

"I know," Hermione said calmly. "But you'll do it. For my sanity." She smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you, Severus."

"I refuse," Severus said flatly.  _ If she starts pretending I'm not her teacher I'll fall for it, I'll start thinking about her as if I'm not her teacher and that is too dangerous, too dangerous- _

Hermione sighed, and leaned into the chair back, closing her eyes. "I'll convince you later. I need to go to bed or I'll fall asleep here."

Secretly relieved that she was going to leave and end the increasingly strange conversation, Severus rose with Hermione and escorted her to the door. "Goodnight," he said, unable to stop a yawn.

She yawned as well, giving him a glare that quite clearly illustrated that her yawn was entirely his fault. "Goodnight."

* * *

Severus checked the wall calendar in his office and frowned deeply.  _ Tomorrow's September 19. Hermione's birthday. _

Which made him wonder what the bloody hell he should do. Last year, he had gotten her a nice set of knives.  _ Well, last year, I knew exactly where I stood with her. This year… I have no idea. _

Last year, Hermione Granger had been a student and nothing more. Well, something more but not much. More like a precocious apprentice, a subordinate but one who joked with him and he could be snarky with. She had turned seventeen sometime over the course of that year- he had given her a watch.  _ It is customary to give a witch or wizard a watch when they reach their majority. _

_ And tomorrow isn't even her real birthday. She said she'd be nineteen in February. She's already eighteen. It won't mean anything. And I don't even really have anything to give her. _

It didn't matter, though. Severus knew exactly what he was going to do for her. The only question was why he would be doing it.

Giving her a gift on the nineteenth of September would not be giving her a gift as a birthday present. It would be giving her a gift for sentimental reasons. Severus remembered a small girl, all bushy hair and splotchy cheeks, crying in a corridor not far from Gryffindor Tower.

_ How much do you want to bet that no one will remember her birthday? Not those stupid boys, not the female Weasley, not anyone of her classmates. They'll wake up tomorrow and go about their day as if nothing has changed and Hermione will refuse to bring it up. Maybe she'll even cry. And she'll live her birthday twice, which means forty-eight hours instead of twenty-four where she'll be reminded every minute that no one really gives a shit about her. Last year her parents didn't even send a letter. _

There was a distinct bitterness in the tone of Severus' thoughts, a mix of his own memories, the memory of the girl crying in the early hours of the night, and the anger that coursed through him when he thought of Hermione crying for any reason.

_ Why do I care so much? _ he thought scathingly.  _ Why do I give a shit? _

_ There are many reasons, _ a small voice in his head told him tartly.  _ Do you want to hear the most relevant one, or the one that's the easiest to handle? _

The first and easiest reason would be because Severus Snape knew how it felt. His parents had given up on the entire 'birthday' thing when his father had lost the job at the mill. No money meant no presents. Or rather, it was the next year, really. A few days before his seventh birthday, his grandparent's library of Dark Arts books had arrived and was subsequently stashed in the attic. That had been all the birthday he had really needed. His mother had tried that year, making his favorite dinner.

The next year, however, no one had cared. His mother sank further into depression as her husband beat her and her son, and by the time Severus turned eight he understood that he wouldn't get anything. Not even a happy birthday.

Lily Evans, had remembered, though. Not for his eighth birthday, no, for his eleventh. She had wished him a happy birthday, glancing at his Hogwarts letter with envious eyes. He had graciously let her hold it and read it, and by the time her birthday arrived, twenty-one days later, her own letter had arrived and the two of them celebrated together with leftover cake Lily smuggled out from her house.

She had remembered his twelfth birthday too, and his thirteenth and his fourteenth. She forgot about his fifteenth, though, remembering a few days before her own birthday. Lily had apologized with a rueful grin and a shrug of her shoulders, and Severus could remember the way that particular shrug of hers had lifted her glorious red hair. He had been more than enamored with Lily Evans by then. But by the time his sixteenth birthday had rolled around, no one remembered. On his seventeenth birthday, Lucius Malfoy gave him a watch and on his eighteenth, he joined the Death Eaters.

Hermione Granger did not have a Lily Evans to remember her birthday. She had Harry Potter, Dunderhead and Dark Lord Magnet Extraordinaire, and Ron Weasley, The Irritating Sidekick.

But she did have Severus Snape.

The only question was, why would Severus Snape do something for her, why would he choose to respond to her birthday and her sadness instead of that of the other students. He knew himself, and he wouldn't give a shit if someone forgot about Potter's birthday.

A year ago, Hermione Granger had just been a student. Now she was… a friend, perhaps. Somehow they had established that a week ago when he was exhausted and she was exhausted and they were both rambling. Severus Snape and Hermione Granger were friends.

He had struggled to define their relationship at the beginning of the school year, and then pushed it out of his mind to the best of his ability. It was easier when she was in class every few days, one of the Potter's bookends and nothing more. Even when they met in his quarters, his own private sanctuary, she was in her school uniform or robes, everything from the way she sat to the way she did her hair screaming 'student!'

But in considering her feelings, he was forced to consider his.

_ You think about her too much. You care too much. You fancy her, and she's only eighteen. _

_ Nineteen in February. _

_ So? _

_ She's not half my age. By this time next year she'll be twenty. I'm only thirty-four. And she talks and thinks like she's thirty. And she looks like she's twenty-five when she leaves off her Glamour. She's beautiful. _

"I sound like a besotted fool," Severus said aloud, gritting his teeth and pinching the bridge of his nose.  _ She would never be interested. And if she would be, I'd make a wreck of things before the third week. _

Severus had loved his mother until he was fifteen or so- then the love had been tempered with bitterness and betrayal and so much anger it wasn't much love anymore. He thought he had loved Lily Evans- but no. He had been obsessed, perhaps. He didn't love her.

And Hermione? He didn't know. He admired her, certainly. He could acknowledge that she was pretty. She was wonderfully intelligent. If he allowed himself to go further, he could say that he was certainly attracted to her on a baser, more carnal level.

"I'm giving her a gift and nothing more," he muttered to himself, turning very definitively back to his work. "Nothing more."

* * *

When she walked into her private room, exhausted and ready to sit and cry at six in the morning, Hermione was officially sixteen years old. Not that anyone had remembered.

She was about to flop dramatically on her bed, when a glint of light on metal stopped her. On her bed, nestled in her coverlet, was a small, beautifully crafted box. Metal and glass, it seemed too fragile to exist, too exquisite to be real. Obviously, it had some magical properties.

Lengthwise, it was only about two of her hands together, and the width of one hand high. Colored glass in impossible shades of blue and grey and green was held together in a careful pattern by what appeared to be melted silver, fusing the pieces of glass together but spilling over the edges. The pattern confused Hermione for a moment until she carefully lifted the box and turned it so she could see the latch.

It was a simple enough design, at first glance. A flower in shades of blue and grey, with a green stem that sprouted smaller flowers around the rim and down the sides. However, when Hermione looked closely she could see that each tiny petal was encased in silver and there were subtleties of hue and tints she hadn't even known existed.

"This is beautiful," she breathed, running her fingers over the cool textured surface. "Beautiful."

Almost reverent in her slowness, Hermione unlatched the box and lifted the lid. Inside were three vials of potions, immediately revealing the sender of the gift.

"Severus," Hermione sighed, a small thrill starting at the small of her back and warming her belly.  _ Why would he do this for me? As if I needed another reason to fancy him, he has to go and do something like this for me. _

Tucked to the side of the potion vials was a slip of fine parchment, a note.

_ Use with care. _

  1. _Felix Felicis._
  2. _Veritaserum_
  3. _Jarberky's Poison_



In other words, the box contained a fortune in some of the most dangerous and controlled substances in the Wizarding World, potions that Hermione was sure would come in handy sometime in the next few years. A fortune in potions that would be impossible to obtain for anyone but a Potions Master.

_ What should I do? _ Hermione thought.  _ I really should thank him… oh but he didn't sign it and he probably does not want me to make a big deal out of it… Maybe I should just get him something nice for his birthday. January 9- I'll remember it. _

* * *

In the two weeks between her first mention of the idea of Harry teaching a Defense Against the Dark Arts group and when he finally agreed, the weather in Scotland grew worse and worse. September at Hogwarts was a wet, miserable experience.

Hermione loved being holed up in the library, working on homework or researching or reading. As adept as she had become in martial arts and knife fighting and  _ fitness _ , her true home was the library, full of books and scholarly pursuits. Currently, she, Harry, and Ron were busy working on an essay for Snape, a wonderfully complex piece of work that even she had never really studied before.

_ Professor Snape really did give us a wonderful little challenge here, _ Hermione thought, mind firmly stuck on school work.  _ Anti-venoms that may be more poisonous than the poisons they cure… fascinating. And he did explain it rather wonderfully in class- well, I think it was wonderful but Harry and Ron look like they're struggling… I suppose they didn't do the background reading and therefore didn't understand a whit of the lecture. Harry really needs to start keeping up with his schoolwork- honestly, we have our O.W.L.s this year, and I can't be whispering in his ear during the test… Half the school will probably fail their O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year anyway, because of that dratted toad… I really should bring up the Defense Against the Dark Arts study group again with Harry. Severus said that things were heating up more with the Dark Lord. _

"I was wondering whether you'd thought any more about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry," Hermione said suddenly, looking up from her diagrams.  _ Now's as good as ever. _

"'Course I have," said Harry grumpily. "Can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us-"

_ No, that's not what I meant, Harry, and you know it. _ "I meant the idea Ron and I had-" Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look.  _ Of course.  _ She frowned at him. "Oh, all right, the idea I had, then- about you teaching us."

Harry did not answer at once. "Well," he said slowly, when he could no longer pretend to find  _ Asiatic Anti-Venoms _ interesting, "Yeah, I - I've thought about it a bit."

"And?" asked Hermione eagerly.  _ This is absolutely perfect for building you a base of loyal, competent supporters and I will not have you jeopardize it if I have to Imperio you to make you agree. _

"I dunno," said Harry, playing for time. He looked up at Ron, which made Hermione sigh.  _ Boys. _

"I thought it was a good idea from the start," said Ron, who seemed keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure Harry was not going to start shouting again.  _ Oh, now you agree. No, you didn't you liar. Ugh. I hate both of them. No, I don't. Just remember they aren't as mature, and they aren't doing this deliberately to antagonize you, Hermione. _

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?"  _ It was a load of luck, but you do have some talent in Defense Against the Dark Arts. _

"Yes, Harry,' said Hermione gently, trying to be as patient as she could. "But all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said-"

Ron looked around at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, "Yeah? What did Vicky say?"  _ Vicky? He's still not angry, is he?" _

"He said Harry knew how to do magic that even he didn't, and he was in his final year at Durmstrang," Hermione replied, a bit confused.

Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously. "You're not still in contact with him, are you?"  _ What has this got to do with anything? _

"So what if I am?" said Hermione coolly, feeling the irritation rise up in her. "I can have a pen-pal if I-"  _ That's all Viktor is, really. Sad, really, that my only relationship that could have worked is reduced to pen pals. Maybe after the war… But for now, along with Charlotte, he is a valuable source of information. _

"He didn't only want to be your pen pal," said Ron accusingly.  _ And I didn't want him to only be my pen pal but that's how things worked out, Ronald. _

Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, "Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?" She couldn't help the hint of irritation that leaked into her voice.

"Just you and Ron, yeah?" Harry said finally, ruffling his hair.  _ Um, no, Harry. That's completely not the point. I already know what I need to know and Ron would do just fine with our tutoring. This about you reaching out to more of Hogwarts and proving you're not a nutter. _

"Don't fly off the handle, again, Harry," Hermione said, clenching her hands in her lap, "I think you should teach anyone who wants to learn. We're talking about defending ourselves against the Dark Lord, not just passing O.W.L.s. It doesn't seem fair to withhold this opportunity from people who are serious about it. If you're worried about coming up with the lessons, or anything at all, you know I'd help you as much or as little as you want." _ It really should all come from him, ideally, but I'm not going to let this fail. _

Harry considered this for a moment, then said, "Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?"  _ Not if you do this and prove them wrong. _

"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," said Hermione seriously. "Look," she said, leaning in toward him - Ron, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forward to listen too – "You know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"  _ Perfect. _

"Why do we have to do it outside school?" said Ron.  _ Because currently, Umbridge has about 89% control of Hogwarts, which means the Ministry has about 89% control of Hogwarts, and the last thing the Ministry wants is a group of people led by Harry Potter with Defense Against the Dark Arts training. _

"Because," said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, "I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to."

* * *

That evening was a terrible one, blustery and cold with rain falling in sheets from the sky. When Hermione turned back with the Time Turner, she settled in her private room with a cup of tea, then promptly fell asleep. Hours later, when she awoke, she made her way down through the dungeons to Severus' office.

The dungeons were horribly cold- she wondered how Severus and the other Slytherins could stand them in December. Shivering, Hermione drew her sweater tighter around her waist and cast a few warming spells on herself.  _ I hope Severus has a brazier lit in his office. I think he makes them himself- that's why he always smells a bit like smoke and herbs… It's a lovely smell. Honestly, Hermione, take a breath and push these thoughts out of your head- what if he saw? _

When she reached Severus' door, still Disillusioned, she knocked hard thrice and softly twice.

"Enter," snapped the Potions' Master, and Hermione did as he bid, removing the charm and her Glamour as the door shut with a bang.

'Wards?' she mouthed, and Severus nodded. "Good," Hermione said aloud, face breaking into a smile. "In about…" she checked her watch. "Ten minutes Harry is going to agree to lead a Defense Against the Dark Arts group."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Well done. How is this going to play out?"

Hermione took a seat in the leftmost chair, her chair. She promptly frowned, stood, and then cast several cushioning and warming spells on it. "Really, Severus. Can't you get the kind of chairs Professor McGonagall has in her office?"

In response, Severus snorted. "I want any visitors to be as uncomfortable as possible so they'll leave quickly," he snarked. "Remove those before you leave."

Sighing, Hermione sat again. "Fine. For the next few days, I'm going to work convincing the students I selected to join the group." More than a week ago, she and Severus had poured over student files for all Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw students third-year and up, looking for those who would be potentially good followers for Harry. She had selected twenty-one students, and was anticipating the joining of at least three more once the group became more 'popular' in direct correlation to Umbridge's decreasing popularity and the number of months before the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.

The ideal Defense Group member should be Harry's age or younger, with mediocre to good grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were preferred; a dedicated Ravenclaw could really self-study by himself. However, it wouldn't do for the club to be too exclusive, so despite their general prickliness and I-am-smarter-than-thou attitude many Ravenclaws possessed, Hermione had selected five she thought would be a good fit. The best qualities of many Hufflepuffs included loyalty and dedication to hard work- she had also selected five Hufflepuffs, all in the same year as Harry.

One of them had jumped out at her as an immediate dissenter- Zacharias Smith, notable for his poor grades and poor teacher reviews. According to Severus, he was "a sycophant almost as annoying as you were to teachers, and an obnoxious little fart with his peers. To offend, he must simply open his mouth."

In other words, the 'common enemy' who would speak up irritatingly, resulting in a unifying put-down. She was counting on one of the older students for this one- preferably one who would then make a show of listening and respecting Harry.

As for Gryffindors, Hermione was counting on most of their year (excluding Seamus, who would need to be convinced by Dean), Ginny's friends, and Fred and George's friends. The Weasleys were blessedly scattered through nearly all the years, which made Hermione's job easy.

It had been ridiculously good fun to sprawl out on the floor of Severus' sitting room, reading through stacks of confidential student files and calling out questions to the Potion's Master as he worked on grading. That really brought out the worst in him- she had made the mistake of asking about one of the Hufflepuffs while he was working on their essay and had received a three-minute speech on that particular student's inability to understand not only the correct color of ink ( _ not _ orange) to use while writing essays, but also proper sentence structure, when not to doodle hearts in the margins of their homework, and how venom and antidotes react in copper cauldrons.

"And after they are all convinced?" Severus asked, a particular look in his eye that Hermione thought might hint at his enjoyment of the process. If there was one thing that the Slytherin Head of House enjoyed more than baiting Dumbledore, it was a cunningly concocted and cleverly executed plot. Even if it was to help Potter, it was still a quite pleasant exercise in manipulation.

Hermione smirked. "Then we meet in a terribly open manner that looks as if we are trying desperately to stay hidden. I was thinking Pucey's Bar and Tavern."

"No," Severus said, shaking his head. "Use the Hog's Head. It's run by Aberforth Dumbledore."

She leaned back and turned the new plan over in her head. "Alright. Can you get another Order member in there? In disguise of course. I'm hoping I can try to tip Umbridge off to a Defense Against the Dark Arts group forming- I don't want her to be able to prove anything, but I do want her to be paranoid."

Severus stroked the side of his face unconsciously, making Hermione bite the inside of her cheek.  _ It's past six, _ she thought.  _ I wonder if he has stubble already _ . She could feel warmth creeping into her cheeks, and banished all thoughts of Severus and his long fingers and potentially rough jaw out of her mind. "I wonder if that is wise," he said silkily. "We should try to keep the group quiet for as long as possible."

"I want her to do something against the group," Hermione said decisively. "The students hate her already, but it's not as bad as it can get. Hopefully, she'll try to pretend like she doesn't know about the group, and cover her tracks by doing something that will affect the entire school, thus causing more hate to go her way."

"I said that I did not think it wise, Hermione," said Severus in clipped tones. "If we want this to be a success, then we need to keep it hidden."

Hermione shook her head once. "We want to unify the school against one person: Umbridge. We'll build Harry up as the alternative to Umbridge, and they'll turn to him. But if we want those who aren't involved in the group to hate her, we need to force her hand. We need to force it  _ now _ while she is still giddy on her little power trip, while she's still delusional about how much the teachers and students respect her."

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. "Severus, right now Dolores Umbridge feels invincible. She's landed a nice cushy job at one of the most prestigious schools of magic in Europe, proof that the Minister of Magic trusts her. She has defeated every challenge in her way- Harry Potter no longer talks back to her. Hermione Granger no longer questions her teaching methods. Then the Minister hands her a nice prestigious title to go with her nice prestigious job, and now she  _ rules _ at Hogwarts. In her mind, Dumbledore is nothing but an old man who she'll replace in the next year or so. Umbridge has power, power over the same people who were teaching her thirty or so years ago. She can get McGonagall fired, she can get Trelawney fired, she can do whatever the bloody hell she wants. She gets off on the power, Severus- nothing is getting in her way. She thinks she's clever and talented and  _ invincible. _ Now is the time to start planting the seeds. She'll ignore them and do nothing because seeds are too insignificant compared to her. She'll go on ignoring them until they start to peak out of cracks, but by then it will be too late- the roots are already messing with her foundations. Umbridge will fall. Letting her know about the Defense group now, while it's barely more than a seed, will give it the protection it needs to grow without her noticing."

Severus was silent for a few moments. "That is possible," he allowed. "But what if she decides to crush it immediately? Make an example out of Potter? This is the one occasion when I do not want him expelled."

"I think she'll retaliate, yes," Hermione hedged, chewing on her bottom lip. "One fell move, and then she'll think she's invincible. I really think this will work, Severus. What's the worst she could do? Let's run through a few scenarios."

Severus sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I do not have the time. I'm due to be called to the Dark Lord's side tonight. He's planning something, and says he wants my 'advice.' I'll probably be gone all night."

Hermione refrained from sucking a breath, the only sign of her concern a slight wrinkling of her forehead. "Alright. Will you tap the watch when you get back? Just to let me know you're not hurt?"

The openness that had been minutely present on Severus' face before Hermione had spoken disappeared. "I would not want to wake you."

Hermione gave him a melancholy smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I wouldn't sleep well anyway."

His brow furrowed, and a touch of concern became present. "Are you having problems with the nightmares again? I can-"

"No, silly," Hermione said, shaking her head. Her tone was gently teasing, hopefully not enough to rile the man's feared temper. "I'm worried about you."

Severus went still. "Very well," he said. "Although if you can't pay attention in class tomorrow I will take fifty points from Gryffindor."

"Of course," Hermione said, unable to keep a hint of affection out of her tone. "I'll see you tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 17!
> 
> I love plotting against Umbridge! Always the most fun. After our two heroes getting closer and closer together, that is. 
> 
> I have another SSHG short story up! This is another one I'm bringing over from FF.net. 
> 
> Comments and kudos much appreciated!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope everyone is staying safe due to the coronavirus. Sorry for the late posting!

**_Chapter 18_ **

The first Hogsmeade weekend was always a joyous time for Hogwarts students; they were free of the restrictions of the school's stone walls and stern teachers, there was an opportunity to buy candy and pranks, and the older students somehow always tried to find someone foolish enough to give them Firewhiskey. Personally, Hermione had always loved the little village- one could take a deep breath of the crisp air and almost taste the history. With a small thrill, Hermione remembered that the goblin rebellion of 1618 had been headquartered in the village- and here she was, Muggleborn witch, masterminding a magical rebellion of her own in the only exclusively Wizarding settlement in Britain.

The castle had been slowly growing more and more oppressive as term went on- it was only October, and already Hermione was eager for the end of the year. The feeling Hermione had of living in a rather tyrannical environment was strengthened by the long queue by the door, where Filch was checking and double-checking each name against his list of those allowed in the village.

When he reached Harry, he gave the boy a great sniff, eyes narrowed before he reluctantly sent the trio on their way. It confused Hermione for a moment, before Harry recalled his run-in with Filch in the Owlery. He mentioned he thought Malfoy had called the false tip- as always, Harry failed to see the larger picture. She had lurked in the background, disguised for a bit, before leaving Harry alone with Cho.

_ This is bigger than a childhood rivalry with Draco Malfoy,  _ thought Hermione.  _ This is Umbridge. She wants to read Harry's mail, and since this didn't work, she'll find a different way. Sooner rather than later, I'm guessing. I'll have to find a way to let Harry know this without making him furious. _

The wind blew in their faces as they turned left on the road to Hogsmeade. Hermione remained silent as the boys talked about Quidditch- she was considering the people she had recruited to the Defense Group.

_ They'd best listen. I couldn't coach Harry, but I did prepare a speech of my own… except they don't really want to hear me speak, they want to hear Harry. Hopefully, he'll rise to the occasion. _

When they arrived at The Hog's Head, Hermione looked around nervously. It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as Hermione stepped on to it she realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.  _ Ew _ , was her first thought.  _ God damn it, Severus, _ was her second.

The other patrons of the bar all had their faces covered. There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

_ Strange, a woman having such a large nose and such broad shoulders… and is that- hair on her knuckles? I think that's a man. _ Hermione squinted a bit and tried to estimate his height.  _ Ah. Mundungus Fletcher, if I'm not mistaken.  _ Dumbledore had promised an Order member, after all.

The boys were making grumbling noises of disbelief- Hermione ignored them for the moment and marched to the counter, head held high. "Three Butterbeers, please," she ordered, regarding the bartender with clear eyes. He was tall and thin, like Dumbledore, with bright blue eyes. Even so, his hair and beard were grey, not white, and his nose wasn't as crooked. The familial resemblance was certainly there, however, and Hermione made sure to smile at him.

They sat at a large table in the back, waiting for the people Hermione had recruited. Harry was looking increasingly nervous.

"So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his Butterbeer and taking a swig.

"Just a couple of people," Hermione repeated, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is - oh, look, this might be them now."

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with Cho and one of her usually-giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones; Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose who confused Hermione for a moment before she remembered he was Zacharias Smith, bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.

"A couple of people?" said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. "A couple of people?"  _ Sorry, Harry. It's for the greater good as Dumbledore would say. _

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," said Hermione happily. Inwardly, she frowned.  _ There are extras. Five more than the ones I selected. _ "Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full. Hermione wondered why they didn't use it for Order meetings. There was certainly more space here than in the kitchen of Number 12.

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, "could we have . . . twenty-seven Butterbeers, please?"

"No, we're fine, Fred," Hermione called out. "Harry, Ron, and I have drinks."

Fred grinned at her. "Twenty-four, then," he told the bartender.

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these . . ."

Harry watched numbly as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. He could not imagine what all these people had turned up for until the horrible thought occurred to him that they might be expecting some kind of speech, at which he rounded on Hermione.

"What have you been telling people?" he said in a low voice. "What are they expecting?" His face was slightly clammy, and he didn't look well. Hermione winced.

"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say," said Hermione soothingly; but Harry continued to look at her so furiously that she added quickly, "you don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first."

"Hi, Harry" said Neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite him. He grinned at Hermione too. She gave him a quick smile, and returned to surveying the crowd.

Cho had just smiled at Harry and sat down on Ron's right. Her friend, who had curly reddish-blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a thoroughly mistrustful look which plainly told Hermione that, given her way, she wouldn't be there at all. She was one of the ones Hermione had not selected, mainly because of her mother's Ministry position. Her name was Marsela, or Mary, or Matilda or something like that. She would have to get her file from Severus.

In twos and threes, the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron and Hermione, some looking rather excited, others curious. Luna Lovegood gazed dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry.

Hermione cleared her throat and stood. Reluctantly, they looked at her. "Thank you for coming," she said, making eye contact with the ones she didn't know. "You know why you are here," she continued. "Harry had the idea—" Harry glared at her, and Hermione sighed.  _ I was trying to paint you in a favorable light, you dolt. _ "Fine. I had the idea that we needed to do something about the way Umbridge is teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts. Because nobody could really call that hag's class Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Anthony Goldstein grinned at her. "Hear, hear," he called. Hermione grinned back.

"I thought it would be good if we… took matters into our own hands," Hermione finished. She paused and looked over at Harry. He didn't look ready to take over. "By that, I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory, the real spells-"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" said Michael Corner, who was sitting next to Ginny but watching Hermione intently.

_ Idiot. _ "Of course I do," Hermione replied tartly. "But the stakes are higher than that, as all of you know. I want to be properly trained in Defense because Lord Voldemort has returned."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Clio's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.

"If you want to join us, we need to-" another person interrupted Hermione, which was starting to annoy her.

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" Zacharias Smith called out in a rather aggressive voice.

Hermione fixed her eyes on him and stayed silent for a moment. Next to her, Harry stood as well. Together, they both looked at him.

There were rustles in the crowd and finally Luna took pity on the blonde Hufflepuff. "Hermione Granger was there with Harry," Luna said, her voice light and drifting. "Don't you remember? She was in the Hospital Wing for days."

Ron glowered at Harry's side. "Listen, mate," he said in anything but a friendly voice, "Dumbledore believes it-"

"You mean Dumbledore believes  _ him _ ," Smith interrupted again. "I-"

"Who are  _ you _ ?" Ron said, rather rudely.

Smith sneered at him. "Zacharias Smith. I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes  _ him _ say You-Know-Who's back."

Hermione cleared her throat and grabbed Harry's hand. He squeezed back and looked at her, concern on his face. "First off, don't say that it's just Harry who's saying Voldemort's back. I'm saying it too." She paused a moment, then continued. "And second, you have  _ no _ right to know what happened in the graveyard. If you came here today to know what it's like when the evilest wizard in Britain has you and your best friend trussed up and ready to  _ die _ then I am  _ sorry _ but you have come to the wrong place." Hermione glared at all of them, and could feel Harry doing the same at her side. "Voldemort isn't a laughing matter," she continued in a gentler voice. "I've looked into his eyes. Harry's faced him several times.  _ If you defy him, he will kill you. _ It's not harder than that."

She scanned the crowd. "Some of you are Muggleborn. No matter what he wants to kill you. Some of your parents support Dumbledore. You've got a target painted on your back too. Some of you will just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Do you want to know how to defend yourselves or not?"

Some people looked away; a few people's eyes glanced at the door, as if debating whether or not it would be safer to stay or leave. Still, more straightened in their seats, jaws set with determination. It was heartening, and Hermione felt confident enough to let go of Harry's hand and sit once more.

"Is it true you that you can produce a Patronus?" It was Susan Bones who spoke, a Hufflepuff with a long plait down her back.  _ Her aunt is Amelia Bones, _ Hermione recalled.  _ Kingsley said that she's the first female Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Has a strong reputation of doing what's right, not what's easy. Sometimes supports Dumbledore. Some say that she'd make a good Minister. _

"Yeah," Harry said defensively. The group seemed impressed.

Susan, however, not so much. "A corporeal Patronus?" she pressed.

Hermione expected Harry to answer, and was slightly surprised when he frowned. "Er- you don't know Madam Bones, do you?"

"She's my auntie," Susan said with a smile. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So- is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"  _ Madam Bones could get into a lot of trouble for discussing Wizengamot cases with her family. Useful blackmail, perhaps, if needed. _

"Yes," Harry said, answering Susan's question.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed.

The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year . . ."

"Er - yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled; Colin Creevey's mouth fell open and Lavender Brown said "Wow!" softly. Hermione was getting slightly nervous- she hadn't planned to tell these people everything Harry had ever done-

"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Philological Stone - "

"Philosopher's," hissed Hermione.  _ Oh no. _

"Yes, that - from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.

Hannah Abbott's eyes were as round as Galleons.

"And that's not to mention," said Cho, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year - getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things…" Hermione glared at her.

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry's insides were squirming. He was trying to arrange his face so that he did not look too pleased with himself. Hermione sighed.  _ The fact that Cho just praised him is probably making it much, much harder for him to not spill everything about the graveyard. _

"Look," Harry said, and everyone fell silent at once, "I . . . I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but . . . I had a lot of help with all that stuff . . ."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying . . ."

"Yeah, well - " said Harry, before Susan Bones interrupted.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those Dementors this summer," said Susan Bones.

"No," said Harry, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is - "

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias Smith.

"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

Perhaps the word "weasel" had affected Ron particularly strongly. In any case, he was now looking at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," the Hufflepuff said.

"That's not what he said," snarled Fred.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" inquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Yes, well,” said Hermione hastily, "moving on . . . the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fred's hand.  _ Perfect. The Weasley Twins are well respected among all the students and they just extremely publicly shot down any opposition to Harry. _

"Right," said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week -"

"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," added Zacharias Smith.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," said Hermione, slightly impatiently, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against Death Eaters –"  _ They have no clue how important this is. _

"Well said!" barked Ernie Macmillan, who Hermione had been expecting to speak long before this. "Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!"

He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry "Surely not!" When nobody spoke, he went on, "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells - "

"There is a reason the Ministry gave us such a useless teacher," Hermione said firmly. "I believe they are so firmly in denial of Voldemort's return that they think it is a trick on Dumbledore's part to build an army and forcibly take control of the Ministry. They would see any attempt to train us in defense as an attempt by Dumbledore to create an anti-Ministry group of trained fighters."

Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Harry, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information. He looked over at Hermione, a confused expression on his face.

"Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths," said Luna solemnly.  _ What the bloody hell? Heliopaths are a myth. _

Hermione looked over at Luna calmly. "Luna- I'm a Muggleborn, which means I didn't grow up knowing about magical creatures. But everything I've read says that Heliopaths haven't been around in years."

"They have," said Luna.

"What are Heliopaths?" asked Neville, looking blank.

They're spirits of fire," said Luna, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever, "great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of - "

"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione, a touch of her impatience entering her tone. "Luna-"

"Oh, yes, they do!" said Luna angrily.

"I'm sorry, but we'll have to discuss this later, Luna-" snapped Hermione.

"There are plenty of eye-witness accounts. Just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you - "

"Hem, hem," said Ginny, in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defense lessons?"

"Yes," said Hermione at once, "yes, we were, you're right, Ginny."  _ I can't get off track like that again. _

Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee Jordan.

"As long as - " began Angelina.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," said Hermione in a tense voice. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet . . ."  _ Maybe I can persuade Severus to let us use the practice room if we need to… _

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

"Library?" suggested Katie Bell after a few moments.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.

"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard."  _ No. If we were found out she'd get in too much trouble- she’s a staunch supporter of Dumbledore's so they'd use any excuse. _

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Hermione. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting."

She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something. This was something Severus had insisted on, and after listening to his argument, she rather agreed. But would they?

"I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign," Hermione made sure she had everyone's attention and that they could all hear here, "you are agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to. You agree to follow the leader we will elect at the next formal meeting. You agree to uphold this group and not to betray it." It was a challenge, firmly placing them in an us-against-them position. Hermione had to be sure that they understood what they were agreeing to sign up for because she had placed a not-so-ethical enchantment on that piece of parchment.

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but Hermione noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list. Some of them, perhaps, could recognize that signing that paper could be considered making a magical vow. She carefully made note of who they were.

"Er . . ." said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass to him, "well . . . I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."  _ Oh no. That's not going to fly with me. _

But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing, too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.  _ Ernie Macmillan, you are going to support me on this one, you pompous Hufflepuff. _

"I - well, we are prefects," Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found . . . well, I mean to say . . . you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out -"

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.

"I - yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it's just - "

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione testily. Here was where her reputation would come into play. Hermione Granger, swot extraordinaire, wouldn't do something stupid like leave a list containing the names of all the members of a secret rebellion against the Ministry's influence lying around somewhere it could be found by anyone.

"No. No, of course not," said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious. "I - yes, of course I'll sign."

Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though Hermione saw Cho's friend- Marissa, Marella- give her a rather reproachful look before adding her own name. When the last person - Zacharias - had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract.

And they had. Hermione had enchanted that piece of paper with a tricky little spell Severus had found her that bound the group together in a subtle way. It strengthened their dedication, and it had consequences for betrayal.

"Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. "George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too, and Hermione watched them leave with a small sigh of relief.

Cho made a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forwards to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the Ravenclaw, making sure the friend saw it too. Let the rumors spread all they wanted to, but Cho Chang would not be good for Harry at the moment.

With a pang of guilt, Hermione remembered how angry she had felt when Dumbledore had opposed her relationship with Krum. As much as she wished this was different, it wasn't really. She could make excuses, good ones, but they were still excuses. She felt the same anger and sadness for Harry. There were some days that Hermione could shake the doldrums and others that the sadness and fear and anger rose up at the slightest thing. The creeping hopelessness and anger were beginning to crawl over her spine.

"Let's go," she told the boys. "I believe both of you promised we could stop at Scrivenshaft's."

* * *

Severus found her in the practice room, draped on a conjured chaise longue and blowing up targets nonverbally. It was obvious that she was upset- when she was sad or angry he noticed that she preferred her Muggle clothes, which was probably why she was lounging in a scoop-necked long-sleeved shirt and flimsy skirt instead of her sensible Hogwarts uniform. Her curls were nearly standing on end, and he half believed they would start sparking. Her hair had gotten darker- it was a deep, rich brown now, a nice contrast to her pale skin. His eyes were drawn to where an unruly curl was brushing her collarbone- Severus clenched his jaw and forced himself to look at her face. Her eyes were dark and set, and there was an absence of red in her cheeks. She was just staring at the end of the practice hall, and blowing small wooden targets up.

"You look like Bellatrix Lestrange when you do that," Severus drawled from his corner.  _ She has wild hair too, and pale skin. She used to be beautiful. But hers was a cruel beauty and Hermione Granger's is a warm one. _ He instantly felt a bit disgusted with himself.  _ She's young. Off-limits. _

Hermione laughed humorlessly, but her next explosion was bigger. "Your point being?"

"What did the poor targets ever do to you?" he deadpanned. "I can name three things more deserving of your time and fifteen more deserving of your anger."  _ Myself included in both. _

When she didn't move, he walked over the end of the couch where her head was, and leaned against the backing. "Did the meeting go that poorly?"

Three more targets exploded in quick succession. "It went fine," Hermione said noncommittally.

Severus frowned. Something was wrong with her- there was an edge to her voice, a particular set to her chin. "Did the Chosen Idiot and his comrade do something particularly frustrating?"

Hermione shook her head. "Do I hear mild interest in your voice, Severus?" she asked dryly.

He scowled automatically, although she wasn't looking at him. "I'm not fishing for the answer," he told her tartly.  _ I'm behaving like a love-struck fool. _

"I'm just having an 'I hate the world' day," she told him. "Thought I might at least get some practice out of it." On cue, another two targets exploded.

"You could do this in your sleep," Severus pointed out. "Try it without the wand." He was developing an idea, one that just might work…

Now Hermione turned from her side, lying flat on her back to look up at him. "I can't do wandless magic."

"You can and you will," snapped Severus. "I don't waste my breath telling dunderheads they can do things they can't do."

Her brow furrowed and she bit her lip. "I've tried it, Severus. I don't think I'm powerful enough."

"Nonsense," he told her. "Put down your wand."

She crossed her arms, wand dangling from her fingers. "Well, I shouldn't start on blowing things up, I should start with calling things-" As she spoke she conjured a table and a quill.

Severus heaved a great sigh. "You could do that. You  _ could _ start from the beginning like everyone else who tries to learn wandless magic. It would take you about three months to make that quill twitch and another few weeks before it floated over to your hand. And then it would take a month or so for that to become consistent. And then-"

She scowled up at him. "Do you have a better idea, then?"

A corner of his mouth twitched up. "I do," he said smugly. "It's something Dumbledore and I have been debating for a few years." He noticed her eyes widen at the mention of Dumbledore. "You could help me prove him wrong," he coaxed.

Hermione grinned up at him. "Today, in particular, that sounds lovely."  _ You look lovely when you smile, _ he thought. "What's your idea?"

Severus shed his teaching robes, and rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen his muscles. "I can do wandless magic," he started. "I learned the long hard way. Tell me what you've read about wandless magic."

Hermione sat up on the chaise longue, unconsciously stroking her wand as she spoke. "In their formative years, young witches and wizards often use magic unconsciously, without a wand. Their magic is unstable, it flares when needed. But when they are eleven, their magic stabilizes and they get a wand with a magical core. The wand is a conduit- it makes channelling magic easier. It enhances the power that is already there, and with the incantations and the wand movements, the magic is strengthened. It's like- it's like you're trying to lift something. Doing it wandlessly requires doing all the hard work with your own muscles. But using a wand is like using a pulley- you are still putting in effort and doing work, but you are doing less work."

"That would be perfectly correct if the people who wrote all those books you read knew what they were talking about," Severus said, a trace of laughter in his voice. "However, they do not."

He watched as she rose and walked over to him. "Oh? So how does it work, then?" He could hear her annoyance- Hermione hated to be told anything she had learned from books was wrong.

Severus pulled back his hair with a tie, then unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. After a moment's consideration, he unbuttoned the top button. It was warm in the room and he didn't want to feel like he was choking. "I'm going to use a form of Legilimency on you, Hermione," he explained. "We're going to try something. Sit here." He conjured a stool, and she sat obediently. "This is going to be extremely disorienting- for both of us."

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked, a bit wary.

Severus gave her a tight smile. "I'm going to help you visualize your magic," he told her. "If you really were sixteen, it wouldn't work, your magic would still be fluctuating too much. What I'm going to try to do is maintain mental contact through touch instead of through eye contact." He hesitated. "Hermione- if you are uncomfortable with this in the slightest at any time, you need to tell me. Do not break away or pull away, but let me know and I'll disengage as quickly as possible." If anything, he did not want to hurt her.

Hermione looked up at him with trust in her eyes. "Like I said during the summer. I trust you, Severus." She smiled gently.

It was clear to Hermione that Severus was both excited and perhaps not-unduly worried about trying this. She, on the other hand, was incredibly eager. It probably had no little part to do with her hormones- they were flying all over the place listening to him with his silky voice explaining he was going to try to maintain a mental connection with touch-  _ holy flying fuck he's going to be inside my mind in moments and I'm ogling his suprasternal notch. And thinking about licking it. Dear Gods, I'm done for. _

When he stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder, she stiffened. Almost instantaneously, she could see the quick pain on his face and he pulled his hand away.

"Wait-" Hermione felt frantic. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed his hand again. "Severus- I'm sorry."

He was cold when he looked at her. "No. It is clear my touch repulses you and I apol-"

It was so far from the truth that Hermione laughed, causing him to try to pull his hand away. "No- I'm sorry-" she kept her grasp on his hand and brought it to her shoulder again, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. "Your touch doesn't repulse me. I was-"  _ just thinking about how attractive you are and- _ she flushed. "Severus, look at me."

Slowly he looked up from where he had been staring at the ground. His features were carefully arranged into neutrality, but Hermione could see with sickening clarity that she had hurt him. "I'm the one who should apologize," she said softly, bringing up her other hand so that both of hers were on top of his. Her fingers stroked his wrist gently. "You startled me, that was all." She lifted one of her hands and reached out for the hand that was lying limp at Severus' side. She brought that one up to her other shoulder. His hands were so beautiful, with long pale fingers covered in old scars and burns. The heavy weight of them on her shoulders sent shivers down to her belly. "Are you ready to begin?"

His jaw had tightened, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Yes," he said, voice rough. "Clear your mind."

Hermione closed her mind, and did just that. She pushed her thoughts of Severus and his wonderful hands and concentrated on serenity. Slowly, her thoughts drifted away and she was simply floating in her mindspace. "I'm ready," she said, and she could hear how her voice sounded rather deliciously languid.

"Open your eyes," Severus ordered, and still feeling wonderfully calm and possessed, Hermione obeyed, seeking out Severus' eyes. And there they were, beautiful and dark and fathomless.  _ I could drown in his eyes _ Hermione thought contentedly. They were closer now, and coaxing, and she could feel a slight sweeping brush against her shields.

After so long, to lower her Occlumency shields felt disquieting, like she was stripping naked and exposed in front of Severus.  _ But it's Severus. It's not that bad. It's Severus. You trust him. _ Dutifully, Hermione yielded to Severus' mind, allowing herself to fall into her own mindspace.

_ You need to give me some control, Hermione. _ His voice echoed in her skull, and Hermione felt the strange disassociation of someone being inside her mind while she was looking at them at the same time.  _ I'm going to guide you into the proper visualization. _

_ Alright, Severus, _ Hermione thought back.  _ What do you want me to do? _

_ Drop all your shields,  _ instructed Severus. _ All of them. You need to be totally open to me. _ On the outside, on her physical body, Severus moved his hands from her shoulders to cup her face. Behind her shields, Hermione wanted to sigh at the touch.  _ I will be dropping mine too. I won't look at anything you don't want me to see, and I expect you to extend the same courtesy. _

Reluctantly, Hermione dropped all of her shields. It was like rainwater sluicing off her skin, a shivery feeling that left her feeling lighter and cold at the same time. Defenseless. But at the same time, Hermione recognized that it must be much harder for Severus, he who had thousands of secrets and years of keeping his shields up entirely. Impulsively, Hermione lifted her hands, placing them on either side of Severus' neck.  _ Let the connection flow in a circle, like a circuit, _ Hermione suggested when he jerked under her touch.

It didn't take long before they were two separate entities inside Hermione's mind.  _ Imagine darkness, _ Severus told her. In her mind he spoke with the same velvety richness, made even more succulent because of the faint echo. Hermione acquiesced, pulling an image of velvety darkness, devoid of even stars, to her mindspace.

_ Will this do? _ she asked.

She could feel Severus smile.  _ Yes, _ he answered.  _ Now I'm going to be doing the imagining. I'm going to be leading you through the darkness until we find what we need. _

They formed mental bodies, and Hermione took his hand. She could sense his surprise, but in return, she also knew he could sense her determination.  _ Alright. Off we go. _

In the utter blackness, the strong and sure presence of Severus next to her reassured Hermione. Suddenly, she could see how one could go mad inside one's own mind. Fear shot through her for a moment, but almost immediately after she could feel calm radiating from Severus.  _ I won't let you go mad, _ he thought wryly.

_ Sorry, _ Hermione replied sheepishly.  _ Let's go. _

They wandered in the darkness of her mind, with Severus taking the lead. Before long, Hermione could feel grass under her feet, and a breeze on her face. Light was spilling from what appeared to be a hole in the ground. When they approached, Hermione let go of Severus' hand and knelt by the edge of the pool. The edges were lined in stone, craggy rocks with jagged edges that looked like they would cut into the skin painfully.

Severus knelt beside her, his face illuminated by the light coming from the hole.  _ Look down into it. _

Hermione obeyed, trusting Severus to keep her from falling in. It was quite like a well, the hole, with the walls made from smooth stone. Only a hair deeper than she could reach without cutting herself on the lining rocks was the source of the light. It wasn't quite gold and it wasn't quite silver, but it moved gracefully in swirling patterns, dancing inside the confines of the well with a viscosity that wasn't as heavy as honey or as quick as water but with the sweet languid fluidity of  _ magic _ , sometimes lifting into the air and sometimes creating small vortexes.

_ It's beautiful _ , Hermione breathed.

She could feel a sort of happiness and peace from Severus.  _ It's you, _ he told her.  _ Your magic. This is how it looks. _

Contentment rose and covered Hermione.  _ So pretty _ , she crooned to her magic.  _ What do I need to do with it, Severus? _

_ Do you see the hole in the side of the well, higher up than the magic rises to? _ he asked her.  _ That one, right there? _ When she nodded assent, he continued.  _ When you use a wand, the magic rises to that hole and is channelled through it through your arm and your wand and your words. The words and movements beckon the magic, and your will makes it follow. _

_ So what I need to do is call my magic to that hole? _ Hermione asked.

Severus shook his head.  _ No. What you need to do is call your magic straight up, out of this hole here. Pull it toward you. _

Hermione stood shakily, and looked down at her magic.  _ Come here, _ she called, reaching a hand out to it.  _ I need you. _ The magic sloshed around, and some hopeful tendrils rose and fell again lazily. The fatigue was upon Hermione suddenly.  _ Ouch. _

_ That's why it normally takes so long to learn, _ Severus said.  _ Now, I'm going to help you. I'm going to break the direct eye contact and try to use touch alone. Close your eyes, and focus on me. _

His mindself stood behind her, and slowly Hermione closed her eyes, pulling them from Severus'. Immediately the connection wavered, and Hermione used all her might and will to hold Severus to her mind.  _ Stay with me! _

_ I'm here, _ he said reassuringly. Her real body could feel Severus standing behind her as she was sitting on the stool; there was a comforting warmth at her back, and two strong hands holding her head. She sighed as the connection stabilized.  _ Are you ready to begin? _

_ Yes, _ she answered. Mind-Severus was standing behind her, and Real-Severus mimicked his pose. Mind-Severus, however, grasped her hands, twining his fingers with hers. She could feel him pulling at his own magic, and as he cupped his and Hermione's hands, his own magic shimmered inside them.

_ Call your magic now, _ Severus told her.  _ I'll help. _

_ Come here, _ Hermione called.  _ Come join us. _

Her magic felt the call of the magic already between her palms, Severus' magic. It rose eagerly to merge with Severus' magic, glowing happily and mixing in with his.  _ It's happy _ , Hermione noted.

_ It's your magic. Control it _ , Severus said wryly.  _ Now thrust your hands out toward the target while thinking the spell. Open your eyes. _

It was dizzying, to have her eyes open and maintain the connection at the same time, but Hermione did so, pushing her cupped hands at the target nearest to her.  _ Flante! _

In retrospect, this was a bad idea as the target immediately exploded violently, sending splinters of wood into the air. One of them scoured a line of pain down Hermione's cheek, and she cried out, still half lost in her mindspace.

_ We should end the connection now,  _ Severus said hastily.  _ Slowly. Let me pull out. _

Hermione came back to reality, back to the practice room. Severus was still standing behind her, two hands on either side of her neck and head. The magic had taken its toll on her- Hermione lolled back against the firm chest behind her, completely exhausted.

"If you move I'll fall," she said, voice slurred.

Behind her, Severus chuckled. "I should have seen that coming," he said, thoroughly amused. "How are you feeling?"

"Limp," Hermione answered. "Noodlely. Ow." She could feel a warm wetness on her cheek. Blood, probably. "You?"

"I'm perfectly fine," Severus said, and she could hear his smirk in his voice. "I'm going to pick you up and set you down somewhere you won't fall and hurt yourself."

One of his hands went behind her back, and the other lifted behind her knees, scooping her up bridal style. Hermione sighed, feeling inordinately tired and extremely grateful for the strong arms that were around her. "Why is it you only pick me up when I'm hurt?" she asked. Immediately she felt the urge to clap a hand over her mouth, and a second, stronger urge to not care. She gave in to the second.

Severus looked down at her. "That's not true." She couldn't read anything in his face other than dry amusement.

"It is," she insisted, yawning. The cut on her cheek stretched painfully. "Ow. There was last year, after the graveyard, and then over the summer when you burned me."

"Don't yawn, you're stretching the cut," he sighed. "And that's not true. I carried you to your bed over the summer when we dueled."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "I don't remember that one."

He smelled delightful, herbs and smoke and books and man. "You wouldn't," Severus replied wryly. "Didn't you hear me say I carried you to your bed? You were asleep, you silly girl."

"Oh," Hermione said unnecessarily. "Why am I so tired now?"

"Because you just used wandless and nonverbal magic," answered Severus. "With my help, of course."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at that, shifted in his arms. "Of course. Why did we do that?"

"Don't wiggle about or I'll dump you on your arse," he warned her. "We did that to show you where your magic is. The theory is that now you can find it again since you've learned how it feels to call magic to your aid without a wand."

He carefully set her down on the chaise longue, then promptly Transfigured it into a proper couch. "Stay here," he ordered. "I'm going to go to my office and get some salve for that cut."

"Mm'kay," Hermione sighed, closing her eyes. "I might take a nap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 18. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I love all of your comments and kudos. Stay safe everyone and see you next Saturday!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! I hope everyone is staying safe.

**_Chapter 19_ **

Thankfully, Severus wasn't stopped in the corridors by any needy student (not that being stopped in the corridors happened often) and he didn't have any Slytherins waiting for him in his office. He was able to quickly retrieve the things he wanted, and make his way back to the practice room.

When he found the hidden door and slipped inside, he surveyed the room and the damage quickly. Gods, it had been glorious to blend his power with hers and see her weld it so wonderfully. The target she had been aiming for was indeed destroyed- along with the three targets farther down the range and a good portion of the stone wall was scorched black.  _ Perhaps we overdid it, a little. _

Severus was delighted. Now, if she could only do something similar again, on her own, he would be able to show Dumbledore his theory worked. The old codger was of the opinion that it took months or years to learn wandless magic and there could be no shortcuts. Severus thought that if the student was talented enough, they could learn wandless magic in hours.

And speaking of students… his student was currently sleeping on the couch he had formed from her chaise longue, one arm stretched over her head and the other draped protectively over her torso. Her curls were darkened with sweat where they met her head, but the rest of her long hair was flung haphazardly around her head.

_ She looks so peaceful. So beautiful. She has no idea how wonderful she is, how brilliant, how alive. She's so young. Her skin is so soft. _

He had loved holding her face in his palm, he had loved the way his hands were nearly bigger than her head. Hermione's skin had been warm, her pulse had been strong in her neck. Her hands had felt lovely when they had been pressed to his skin and it had taken every bit of strength he had accumulated in his long years of developing control not to react.

_ And here I am, staring at a sleeping girl half my age, and wanting her. _

_ She's not half your age. She's nearly nineteen. You're only thirty-five. In September of next year, she'll appear to be seventeen but will be twenty or so and you'll be thirty-six. The year after that she'll be twenty-two and you'll be thirty-seven. Wizards can live twice as long as Muggles, so the age difference is really only like seven years, not fifteen. _

_ She would never be interested in me. _

_ My touch didn't repulse her. She reached out to me. She felt comforted by my presence. There could be something there. _

The Potions Master stared down at his student, his friend, his- the woman who he thought about entirely too much and in a fashion that wasn't quite appropriate.

_ Hermione loves everyone and everything freely. She could deem you worthy. _

_ Why would she want to be with an old man like me? _

_ Because she smiles at you. And she isn't afraid of you. She likes you. _

_ I'm her friend and that is all. _

_ Oh? And who are all your other friends? You don't have that many. _

_ Albus is my friend and I don't want to hold him! _

_ So now you want to hold her? You dirty old man… _

_ And two seconds ago you were telling me I had a chance with her. _

_ I was lying, you creep. _

"I shouldn't talk to myself in my head," Severus muttered. "Or out loud for that matter." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, very decidedly not looking at the prone girl on the couch.

"Hermione," he said, raising his voice slightly higher than his normal tone. "Wake up."

She frowned and stirred, blinking sleepily, then said something he couldn't quite catch. Severus sighed again and conjured an armchair and a small table for the things he had brought. A glance at the clock in the corner told him that they had three hours before either of them had to be at dinner.

_ It is ridiculous how reluctant you are to wake her, _ his inner voice said, words dripping with disdain.

It was because she looked so… pleasant while she slept. She looked peaceful. Sleep that resulted from a magical draining was often dreamless.  _ I'll give her that blessing, _ he thought stubbornly.  _ Not because she's pretty or I like the way she looks when sleeping. Because she deserves to rest awhile in peace. _

He called for a house-elf and asked for some tea. Hermione's book bag was leaning against the wall on the other end of the room; he summoned it and rummaged around until he found a book that looked mildly interesting.

About two hours later, Hermione was still sleeping and Severus was getting a bit worried.  _ What if it wasn't just a minor magical drain? What if you were wrong and you severely injured her magic? What if she's just slipped into a magically induced coma and- _

_ Check then, you idiot. _

Severus set Hermione's book down slowly- not because he was calm, but because he was trying desperately to control himself. It was Severus' nature to act calm when inside he was pacing with worry, with terror, to make full use of his Occlumency barriers and hide his emotions.

"Hermione," he called, and she did not stir.

The worry was weaving a path up from his belly and curling around his lungs. "Hermione!"

Of all the emotions on the spectrum, Severus hated fear the most. It crippled, it drove people to do what they would never otherwise do, it was unpredictable and yet the same every time. When he stood, Severus was unable to do it slowly, with the appearance of calm. He was at her side in a moment, kneeling as he pressed a hand to the pulse in her neck. "Hermione!"

Her pulse was slow and steady- he couldn't think straight enough to count the beats, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway because he couldn't remember what the difference was between sleep and coma. "Hermione!" He wanted to shake her roughly, he wanted to-

Her eyes opened. "Severus?" His name was slurred, but with sleep and not with anything worse. Magical exhaustion, not anything fatal. He couldn't help but close his eyes in relief.

"You are alright," he breathed.

She was struggling to sit up, and failing miserably. "I could argue that one," she slurred. "Feel like-" she sighed and collapsed back on the couch. "Ow."

Severus couldn't help laughing aloud. At that point, it was either to laugh or hug her to his chest and as much as he wanted to do that he was also quite sure he didn't. She was alright, she wasn't in a coma or permanently damaged, she'd be perfectly fine. Hermione was glaring up at him. "I was sleeping," she protested. "I'm  _ tired _ ."

He rocked back on his heels, still laughing. "I thought you were in a coma," he told her suddenly.

"I think Lockhart was here and he Vanished all my bones," Hermione groaned. "Severus…"

"You're worn out, magically and physically," he told her. "You exhausted yourself."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "You mean you exhausted me."

"I mean we exhausted you," Severus compromised. "It'll go away, once you eat and sleep some more."

Hermione sighed, and yawned. "Ow," she complained again.

"We need to do something about that before it scars," Severus sighed. "If you wish, I will heal it for you."

Hermione smiled at him. "Go ahead," she said. "Just don't wake me up if I fall asleep on you."

"Sorry," he said, clearly not sorry at all. "Dinner's in forty-five minutes. And you should probably eat something now."

"Fine," grumbled Hermione. "But take care of my face first, while I wake up." Severus raised one eyebrow. "Please?"

He smirked. "It would be my pleasure." He gathered his supplies, and returned, then frowned. "I don't suppose you are feeling well enough to sit up?" The look she gave him clearly indicated otherwise.

With a sigh, he brought the table nearer, then lifted her torso and sat where her head had been resting. Hermione's head rested in his lap (oh, how strange and exhilarating it felt but Severus pushed those emotions down and far, far away), looking out at the rest of the room.

As he cleaned her cut, she was silent, making no noise at the pain he was sure he had to be causing her. None of it was deliberate- Severus used his lightest touch, taking as much care as he could to save her any pain. He cleaned the dried blood from her face, then used a solution he had made himself to wash it out and prevent infection. He could feel her muscles tense as he applied the antiseptic- he knew from experience it stung. Working quickly, he applied another salve he had made, one that would hasten healing, close the wound, and prevent scarring.

The work did not distract from his appreciation of her features. Her skin was smooth, less pale than it had been at the beginning of the summer. Her brows were finely arched, her nose was freckled and perhaps a shade too thin and a trifle too long, but who was Severus Snape to complain about someone's nose? Her mouth was sensuous and slightly chapped, her chin was stubborn, and her lashes brushed her cheek when her eyes were closed.

"Finished," he said, voice a bit rough. "I'll ask for some food. Is there anything, in particular, you would like?"

For some reason, a look of guilt flashed across her face. "Does coffee cake count as food?"

"No," he said. "I think we're both going to skip dinner tonight. How does roast chicken sound?" He carefully filed away her desire for coffee cake for future reference. He would have to see if it was truly a favorite or only a momentary craving.

The house-elves happily brought food from dinner, and it was the work of moments for Severus to Transfigure a proper dining table. He prepared two plates from the platters the house-elves brought, and they ate.

He had never observed her eating habits from this close before. She was dainty with her silverware, never spoke with her mouth full, but also managed to eat everything he had served her. Hermione Granger ate as if she was a pureblood lordling, courtesy of Andromeda Tonks. But it was strange- he had seen her reading and eating at the same time as he had watched from the High Table.

"So…" Hermione drawled. "Tell me what kind of experiment we were doing."

Severus sipped from his goblet of water. "Albus and I have long debated the best way to teach wandless magic. He believes that your books are correct, to a point. I believe that they are absolutely ridiculous and the best way to teach wandless magic is to have an experienced mentor demonstrate with the person's own magic, and create a pathway."

"Like riding a bike, then," Hermione posited. "Once you know how to do it, you can't forget."

"More or less," Severus hedged. "It's more like… guiding you through the process, so you know exactly how it should be done."

Hermione shrugged. "Then why am I so exhausted?"

Now Severus was a bit sheepish. "Well, maybe we shouldn't have started with blowing up targets. Summoning a quill may have been wiser."

Laughing, Hermione choked on her food. She coughed a few times, eyes watering. "Now you consider that," she gasped. "Thank you, Severus."

He wanted to fidget, but held still. "Perhaps I was… a bit overeager."

She raised an eyebrow at him, a habit she had picked up from the Potions Master in the first place. "Perhaps." He gave in to his urge to fidget, and she laughed again. "That's alright, though. I think I know what I need to do, now, to get my magic to obey."

"I wouldn't try anything tonight," Severus warned. "Or tomorrow morning. And I would like to be there, just in case-"

"So we'll meet here tomorrow afternoon?" Hermione suggested, cutting him off. "Two?"

Severus nodded. "That would be acceptable."

The food was nearly gone, and Hermione had finished her plate. She stood and stretched like a cat, yawning at the same time. "Then I'm going to soak in the Prefect's bath until curfew. Goodnight, Severus."

He nodded, refusing to let his face break out into a smile. "Goodnight, Hermione."

* * *

The Prefect's bath was a glorious reward for four years of academic excellence and integrity, a gift to the students who earned it. Hermione adored the Prefect's bath- it was truly lovely, all marble and porcelain and stained glass windows reaching impossibly high.

She had already chosen her favorite taps- one for normal, hot water, one for a scent like rose hips and honey, and another that relaxed her muscles. She only chose the first two that night; she didn't want to fall asleep and drown.

But as tired as she was, Hermione thought there was little chance of that. Her mind was a mess, turning and looking at the events of the day from one primary angle: Severus.

Almost immediately after returning from Hogsmeade, Hermione sent the boys off to do their homework, while she went to the practice room. It was either that, or do something stupid.

There were some days that Hermione wanted to curl up in a ball and cry and never surface. Sometimes she thought (objectively, of course) about death and what hers would mean, and she just wanted to disappear. She wondered if death would be painful or unpleasant. She wondered what would happen when Harry and Ron found out about her. She wondered what she would do after the war was over.

When she was a child she had expected to go through school, go to university, fall in love, maybe start a family. Now… she could very well die. And if she lived, Hermione doubted she would be fit for cohabitation, let alone matrimony. Who could possibly understand? Would there be one person alive who would be able to handle Hermione at her most prickly, when she was weepy, when she was bitter and angry one minute and happy the next? Who would be able to understand what she had done and why she had done it? Who wouldn't shy away from her in fear?

Harry, perhaps, Ron, maybe. But could she love them? Not as more than friends.

_ What about the man you are currently dreaming about? _ a voice whispered to her.  _ What about the snarky monster who sneers at you in one breath and comforts with the other? _

Hermione shivered as she undressed and stepped into the hot bath. Goosebumps rose on her arms, a strange reaction to the heat of the water. With a sigh, she waded in and sat on a helpful outcropping that immersed her in the wonderful scented water to the neck.

Severus Snape. She had already admitted to herself that she found the man extremely attractive. It was easier at school to distance herself, to view Severus as Professor Snape, her Potions Professor. But today…

Had the stern, selfish, unfeeling Snape actually shown worry about her? Concern? A desire to find out what was bothering her? To be fair, she hadn't actually seen Severus acting selfish or uncaring in a long while. It had taken a year or two, but Hermione more than understood that the role Severus played in the classroom and in the halls of Hogwarts was not his true self. But what was?

She had limited evidence. Who was to say Severus was the man he was with her? It could all be a cleverly crafted persona, perfectly conceived to fit her.

But it wasn't. She had felt him in her mind, warm, protective, excited. She had seen him with all his shields dropped. She- Hermione wasn't sure if she was special to Severus, but she certainly felt that way.

_ Silly girl. You're attaching yourself to him because he's the only person who treats you like- like you are a person. Think about Severus Snape, and analyze him. Question him. Come to a rational decision. _

Severus Tobias Snape, aged thirty-five years, Potions Master, Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Master Spy for the Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix, Death Eater of Lord Voldemort's Inner Circle. Born and raised in Spinner's End, small mill town in the north. Attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from 1971 to 1978, graduated first in his class. Joined the Death Eaters after receiving his Potions Mastery. Joined the Order of the Phoenix for some unspecified reason.

_ Point one. Find out why he joined the Death Eaters. _

_ Possibilities: Believed the rhetoric, connections through Slytherin, coerced. _

_ Point two. Find out why he joined the Order. _

_ Possibilities: Sent as a spy by the Dark Lord, saw the error of his ways, was never really a supporter of the Dark Lord in the first place. _

Professor Snape, specifically in his capacity as Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Depending on the year's current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the most disliked and most frightening teacher in the castle. Head of Slytherin House, very biased in granting of House Points and general favoritism. Strict, terribly so, not particularly concerned with the feelings of his students, but prevented them from killing each other. Made use of a biting wit and talent at both sarcasm and delivery to humiliate idiots and draw attention to mistakes. Demanding with students, expecting perfection or better. Refused to except incompetent students into his N.E.W.T. level courses.

_ Point Three: Find out why he shows favoritism to Slytherin students. _

_ Possibilities: Truly thinks Slytherins deserve it, role as spy, or perhaps he does it for fun. _

_ Point Four: Find out why he is so harsh on students. _

_ Possibilities: He is a mean person, he wants to make sure they don't blow the class up or poison themselves, he finds it amusing, he hates teaching dunderheads. _

Severus, the man she saw when they were alone. Very controlled, but able to smile. Well, smirk. When they were alone he wasn't kind, but he didn't snap as much. He wasn't relaxed, but he wasn't as stiff as he was around anyone else. His wit was still biting, but it wasn't directed at her. He was funny in a sharp, intelligent way. Far from being less threatening, he was- she didn't quite have a name for it. It was as if he was more dangerous and less at the same time. In the Potions classroom, he was frightening, but contained. When they were alone, either sparring or talking, he was… quietly deadly. She knew he wasn't going to hurt her, far from it, but he was free to be as casually powerful as he wanted. He would throw knives with quick accuracy, he would casually call over a teapot with wandless and wordless magic, he would throw her with fast grace and strong arms.

_ Point Five: Find out why he is comfortable around me. _

_ Possibilities: He doesn't find me threatening, he figures that I won't tell anyone, he likes me, it's a ruse. _

_ Point Six: Find out how far down his defense are and how far down they could go. _

_ Possibilities: He is completely open with me (unlikely) or only slightly more open than with other people. _

Severus Tobias Snape, the man. Tall, over six feet. He towered over Hermione. Graceful, fast, moved silently when he wished. Greasy haired from bending over poorly made potions all day. Slightly sallow skin from recurrent ill health and what Hermione suspected might have been a drinking problem in his youth. Grey eyes that were almost black, eyes that could suck an unsuspecting wizard in and force him to reveal all his secrets. A strong nose, sharply arched. Surprisingly full mouth. Usually clean shaven. Long neck. Thin frame, long arms and legs and torso. Large, elegant hands with scattered scars from a lifetime of potion making and knife fighting. Melodious voice, like honey and rum and silk. As far as Hermione knew, he had never been involved with anyone.

_ Point Seven: Find out what you can do to help with his health. _

_ Possibilities: Trying to get him to sleep more, give him more time by grading more papers, try to send him to Madam Pomfrey for a proper medical check. _

_ Point Eight: Find out if he's ever… had someone. _

_ Possibilities: Girl his own age when he was younger? Men? Not interested in anyone? _

Hermione sighed, Eight points were more than enough.

_ What do you even want from him? _

What did she want from him? Everything. Nothing at all.

_ I find myself both intellectually and physically stimulated by Severus Snape. I have a relationship with him as a friend, but I want- I want a relationship with him as a man. I want to know him as a woman does a man, and I might be mad. _

But why couldn't she be happy with what she had? Why Severus?

_ Because you've never had a romantic relationship in your life and you are chock full of teenage hormones. Because Severus is a man who smells like a man and walks like a man and sometimes he looks at you like a man. Because you care for him. _

_ Maybe he cares for me too. He looked worried, earlier, when he thought I was hurt. _

_ There are a thousand reasons he could not want me hurt and still not care about me. _

It was an inescapable truth, one that Hermione did not want to think about. So instead, she thought about how to define her feelings for Severus.

_ I want him to be happy. I want to be the one to make him happy. I want to hear him laugh like he was laughing earlier. I want to be intimate with him- not sex intimate (well, not just sex intimate) but also things like being- I want to be his person. I want to be the most important person in his life and that is horribly selfish of me. I want him to be safe and happy and mine. I want to protect him from the Dark Lord, from Dumbledore, from everyone. I want to find out what his favorite food is and make it for him on his birthday, I want to know if he steals the covers, I want to know if he's a biter or if he is tender or if he likes to leave love marks. _

_ So am I in love with him? Do I have a crush on him? Am I just attracted to him? _

_ Does it even matter? How does he feel about me? _

Severus Snape did not seem like a man who lent himself to roses and kisses and chocolate. But- she could see it, in her mind, the two of them enjoying a discussion like the ones they had enjoyed all summer, except this time when he was winning she kissed him to shut him up. Or the two of them cooking together, or him brewing while she read aloud. She could almost imagine how gentle he would be when he held her, a gentleness she had felt when he soothed her burns or picked her up because she was so exhausted her legs wouldn't work. But she could also half-dream of his passion, his intensity. She wondered if the look he got on his face when they sparred would be similar to his face when he-

She had been relaxed and resting on the edge of the bath when she slipped into the water. Coughing, she sat back up.

_ Time for bed, _ she decided.  _ I've got a long day tomorrow. _

* * *

The next day was a Sunday, which meant Harry and Ron finally had to buckle down and do the homework they had been avoiding all week. They escaped to the cool air and gentle breeze coming off the lake on the Hogwarts Grounds, and Hermione eagerly made her way to the practice room for her second session with Severus.

He was waiting for her when she arrived. Hermione took a moment to observe him from the doorway of the room. As was his custom when they were together in the practice room, Severus had discarded his teaching robes in favor of his more comfortable outfit of plain white long-sleeved button-down, of a fine material, over dark slacks. Today the sleeves of the white shirt had been rolled up to his elbow, revealing well-muscled and scarred forearms. His lanky form was moving in one of the more advanced knife forms, and his face was fixed in a snarl of concentration.

Hermione swallowed hard and stepped entirely into the room. She was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, keeping to the sides of the room and staying quiet as she unbuttoned her robes to reveal the Muggle clothes she wore underneath; a loose pair of cream colored pants and a red top that didn't hinder her movement when she fought.

Instead of joining Severus in practicing with her knives, Hermione just leaned against the wall and watched him. She still felt weak from her exertions the day before- she had slept in far longer than she normally did on weekends.

_ He's beautiful when he fights, _ she thought.  _ All power and grace and ferocity… _

Severus whirled to a halt with a final move that would have slit an enemy's throat. There was more than a light sheen of sweat on his face and darkening the back of his shirt, and his hair was in slight disarray. Unconsciously, Hermione licked her lips.

Severus' eyes darted to them, then away again. She wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't been watching him so intently; however, the quick glance was enough to make her blush before she could control the rise of red in her cheeks.

"You look lovely-" Hermione started, then stammered to a stop. "I mean- the knife forms are so graceful, and- well, you do them very well."  _ Please let the earth open and swallow me. _

Severus frowned, but didn't comment on her stammer or her flush. "I'd hope I'd be good at them after two decades of practice."

She was remembering the last time he mentioned his years of experience, and smirked. She had landed him on his arse in the first minute. He seemed to know what she was thinking about, and scowled. "You could pretend to respect me," he said loftily.

Hermione laughed. "When cauldrons are involved, you have my utmost respect," she said playfully. "But when I can have you on your back in three minutes flat…" For some reason her throat dried and she pictured Severus flat on his back with-

"Impudent woman," he growled.

"That's right," Hermione said cheerfully. "Are you ready to have me test the wandless magic?"

Severus grabbed a towel and wiped his face quickly. "Yes. What do you want to try?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Well, I already know what blasting things feels like," she mused aloud. "I'm half afraid that if I try to Summon a quill I'll either set it on fire or impale myself."

Severus snorted in amusement. "Go ahead and try to blast a target then," he said, gesturing to the far end of the practice room where four targets bobbed. The room was a long rectangle, with the door set in the corner of one of the short sides. The opposite end of the room was where the targets were. In the center was a large mat where they would spar, and along the long sides of the room were benches where they could leave robes and in Hermione's case, school bags. If they so wished the two long sides could become mirrors, or padded surfaces. Now, however, they were the same dark grey stone that made up the rest of the castle.

It was against one of those walls that Severus leaned, drinking a cold glass of water he had poured from a carafe on a table off to the side. He gestured for Hermione to begin as he drank.

Hermione stood directly across from the targets, breathing slowly to calm herself. Her Occlumency was useful for controlling her emotions and for tightening her control on her magic. She thrust aside thoughts of Severus, the constantly niggling worry for Harry, and the weariness in her muscles.

Eyeing the targets, Hermione fixed their position in her mind and then closed her eyes. Remembering how it had felt when Severus had done it, Hermione called her magic to her and thrust it out to where the targets waited.

Unlike the day before, when the target had exploded violently, the target she had been aiming at trembled and caught on fire. She wrinkled her nose at it, ignoring Severus as he frowned and stalked toward her. She tried to call up more magic, feeling her breath come harder as she fought to force it from her hands. This time the target was completely enveloped in flames, and Hermione sagged with relief and exhaustion. The flaming pieces of the target disappeared, and a new one floated up in its place.

"I kind of did it," she said proudly. She wavered, and Severus steadied her with a firm hand above her elbow.

"Yes you did," he said, finding a strange kind of humor in it. He steered her toward the couch that remained from the day before, only letting her go when she was safely seated. "I am impressed."

She grinned at him. "It would be a useful trick if it didn't leave me feeling as weak as an hour old kitten."

Severus conjured an armchair for himself, falling into it in a dignified way that Hermione envied. His long legs sprawled in front of him, crossed at the ankles. "It'll come, in time," he said. "The important thing was for you to know how to call up your magic."

Hermione sighed and stretched weakly. "I feel tired," she said, yawning almost immediately. "I think I'm going to take a nap."

"Don't let me prevent you," Severus said smoothly. "Would it bother you if I practiced?"

She smiled up at him, already blinking sleepily. "No, of course not. Wake me up in half an hour?"

"Best make it a full hour," Severus advised. "Nothing will happen in that time."

* * *

The door to the Potions' classroom banged open, quieting the whispers about Neville's fight with Malfoy. Harry had held him back- Hermione hadn't known that Harry knew about Neville's parents, but she was proud of him for helping the other boy.

"You will notice," said Snape, in his low, sneering voice, "that we have a guest with us today." Hermione's heart sank. She had been too concerned with Harry and Neville to notice Umbridge sitting in a dim corner of the dungeon, clipboard on her knee.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend - instructions- " he waved his wand, "-on the board. Carry on." Hermione noticed he used a wand in Umbridge's presence- it was probably wise.

Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. Harry was very interested in hearing her question Snape; so interested, that he was becoming careless with his potion again. It was all that Hermione could do to continue brewing her own potion and stop Harry from blowing them all up; she caught Severus' eyes and sighed. He would trust her to stop her charge from making any stupid mistakes.

"Salamander blood, Harry!" Hermione moaned, grabbing his wrist to prevent him adding the wrong ingredient for the third time. "Not pomegranate juice!"

"Right," said Harry vaguely, putting down the bottle and continuing to watch the corner. Umbridge had just got to her feet. "Ha," he said softly, as she strode between two lines of desks towards Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas's cauldron.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," she said briskly to Snape's back. Hermione found it vaguely amusing that the fat witch barely stood to his shoulder blades. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."  _ Bitch _ , Hermione thought nastily.  _ She wouldn't know, but one of the things you definitely don't do is question a Potions Master on the correct syllabus for his class. _

Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her. Hermione couldn't see his face through a curtain of lank hair, but she imagined it would be cold.

"Now . . . how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.

"Fourteen years," Snape replied. He tilted his head, moving the hair. His expression was unfathomable. Harry, watching him closely, added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange. Hermione growled at him and yanked the flask from his hand, adding three more drops and, taking coriander from her own kit and sprinkling it in quickly to neutralize the disaster. Harry murmured thanks, still concerned with Snape.

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape. Hermione winced.

"Yes," said Snape quietly. Only Hermione could hear the pain and annoyance in his voice- he had ranted to her more than once on Dumbledore's refusing to put him in the post and instead giving it to useless lumps like Lockhart.

"But you were unsuccessful?"  _ Obviously _ , Hermione thought scathingly. _ Does this look at a Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom to you? _

Snape's lip curled. "Obviously."

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.  _ And what are you writing?  _ Hermione thought. _ 'Asked stupid question and received obvious answer.' Or, 'Managed to look ridiculous, and anger the man who is possibly the most dangerous person at this school.' _

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked as if he was carefully controlling his fury.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge. At least she's making my work easier. Now I won't have to work as hard to convince Severus to crush her like an annoying insect. At least Skeeter has some use.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily.

"Oh, I shall," said Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his grey eyes narrowed. The combination of the poor lighting in the dungeon and Severus' own anger turned them closer to black than Hermione had ever seen.

Harry attempted to put in three crushed beetles; Hermione glared at him and pulled the beetles away. "Powdered," she hissed at him, looking pointedly at his pestle.

"Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' - er - backgrounds."  _ Is that a not-so-subtle attempted to 'warn' Severus that you are aware of his history as a Death Eater? _

She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked round at Hermione and their eyes met for a second. He jerked his gaze over to Harry, who startled and dropped the still un-powdered beetles in his potion. Harry hastily tried to remedy it, dropping his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a. strong smell of burned rubber.

"No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

"Yes," said Harry furiously. Snape had already given them homework and Hermione knew that Harry had Quidditch practice that evening; this would mean another couple of sleepless nights for the Seeker. Hermione sighed.

Severus peered at her potion. Unable to find anything wrong, he sneered at her and moved on. Hermione grinned to herself. Class was almost over- and Umbridge was looking distinctly flustered.

* * *

"Well, you look like the cat who got the cream," Severus said, a hint of a teasing lilt in his voice. "Are you satisfied with how things turned out?"

Hermione laughed as she accepted a cup of tea from Severus, curling up neatly on the armchair that had somehow become  _ hers _ in all the times she had been in Severus' rooms. "I am  _ delighted _ ," she purred. "Umbridge is rather wonderful at playing directly into my plans."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you were Sorted into the right House?"

Hermione countered by raising her own eyebrow. "Are you?"

They met each other's eyes for a moment longer, then both looked away. Hermione sipped her tea, then spoke. "By ordering all clubs to register and then re-form after we started the Defense club, she is sending a mixed message. No one is absolutely sure she knows about the Defense group, and they are also sure that this isn't just a whim on her part. She has everyone on edge and no one likes that feeling. Since she is clearly the source of it, it adds to their dislike of her."

"And by forcing other clubs to reform and then dawdling she gains their animosity as well," Severus added, a glint in his dark eyes. "Very good, Hermione."

The praise touched her. "You really think so?" she asked, eyes shining.

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it was true," Severus said bluntly. "You took a calculated risk that paid off."

She blinked quickly. "Then thank you," she said softly. "I think it was good for the morale of the group- knowing that no one tattled on them gives them a feeling of solidarity, they are united in the face of a common foe, and Harry stepped up to the plate of being a leader for them when he insisted they press on."

"Speaking of Potter," Severus said, the grimace on his face making it clear it was the last thing he wanted to be speaking of, "Umbridge was definitely behind the attack on his owl."

"I felt so bad for poor Hedwig," Hermione said, a hint of anger creeping into her voice. "To make it worse Hedwig was carrying a message from Sirius. It didn't give anything away, but he wanted to talk. I figured I'd fit it in on the second turn around."

Severus frowned. "What does the mutt want?"

Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea," she answered truthfully. "But I'm half certain that it will concern the defense group."

"Then do you have time?" Severus asked. "Say… three or four hours?"

Straightening in her seat, Hermione finished her tea as she ran a few calculations in her head. "If I do a bit of fancy time travel," she said finally. "What for?"

Severus stood in one fluid motion, flinging a hand out to catch the cloak he had Summoned from another room. "I want you to meet some people. We'll have to leave Hogwarts."

"Sounds like fun," Hermione said, blasé. "Should I change my appearance?"

He shook his head, holding the cloak for her. With a questioning glance, Hermione stepped inside it, and Severus wrapped it around her. "Put hood up," he ordered.

She did as he had asked. The cloak shuddered around her, and shortened from a cloak for a man of Severus' height to a cloak for a woman of Hermione's.

"With this, your face will be in complete shadow," he told her. "It is enchanted- if a person who knows you sees you in this cloak, they will not know you unless you will it. If you talk to someone directly, they will know your face and forget it as soon as you turn away. If they see you again not wearing the cloak, they will have a sensation of déjà vu and nothing more, unless you remind them of your conversation."

Hermione willed her jaw not to drop. "That's complex," she breathed. "How did you get hold of such a thing?"

There was wry humor in his eyes. "I made it, of course," he said. "You'll need it where we are going."

"And where are we going?" Hermione asked curiously.

A smirk spread across Snape's face. "To meet our spy network."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 19. 
> 
> Very good news - I think I've finally (after a good 10 years of writing this) figured out how the story ends! I'm on Chapter 61 at the moment, and while it will certainly take a while to get to the conclusion, I hope it will be as satisfying for all of you as it is for me. 
> 
> Stay safe during this pandemic everyone - I currently work in mental health and homelessness in a big city, so I'm still working... schizophrenia stops for no pandemic, unfortunately, and global distress does little to lessen mental health crises. Send me your good thoughts - I don't have PPE and I'm meeting clients at their homes and on the streets. It's only a matter of time before it hits the homeless shelters, and then... it won't be pretty.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! Thank you everyone for your well wishes. I am staying as safe as I can (yay got a cloth mask) while still doing my job. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Beta'd by Sorasrardust, as usual!

**_Chapter 20_ **

" _ Our spy network? _ " Hermione asked, swallowing roughly. "Severus…" She had no excuses, nothing to say.

Severus clenched his jaw, then released it. "You are my liaison with the Outer Circle of the Order. If something happens to me, you will need to know who the spies are and how to control them."

Hermione held her breath for a moment, then released it slowly. "Alright. Let's go." She was quiet for a moment. "You don't need this cloak?"

He grinned wryly. "I have two," he said. Hermione smiled back. It was plain to her this was the one he had used before- it smelled of him, of herbs and books and rain.

The trip through to corridors was short- Severus escorted her to a secret passage almost directly outside of his chambers that he used when leaving the castle, pausing briefly to give her the password and show her how to open it. From there it was a quick trip through the blackness of the Hogwarts grounds at night to a small, concealed side entrance to the gates. They slipped through, and then Severus offered Hermione his arm and Side-Along Apparated with her.

They went first to the group of informers Severus had code-named after characters in  _ The Odyssey _ . They were the ones who lived or worked in Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley, with instructions to report any interesting tidbits of information they heard.

Telemachus, the spy who had died much earlier in the year, had been one of these.

There was Penelope, a tall witch with long blonde hair who eyed Severus fearfully and glared at Hermione. She worked at Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, which frequently received orders for dress robes from purebloods for social gatherings.

There was Calypso, the leader of the group of prostitutes who worked in one of the high-end brothels of Knockturn Alley, one that advertised as being "pureblood witches only." That particular establishment preyed on the illegitimate bastards of wealthy pureblood lords, the girls who were banished from their families for some unspeakable offense, and trafficking from the poorer sections of Europe. The purebloods of Wizarding Germany, especially, had fallen on hard times after the defeat of Grindelwald. Hermione felt another part of the naïve little girl inside her die at the appraising look of the courtesan- still haughtily beautiful at thirty, a woman who flowed rather than walked and who looked directly at the place she judged Snape's eyes to be.

A small man, with a runny nose and chapped lips, was called Polyphemus. According to Severus, he was a partial owner of the industry giant that was  _ The Daily Prophet _ , the newspaper that continued to dictate what the sheep of the Wizarding World read, thought, and repeated.

Eurykleia was an old woman who worked had worked as a nurse at St. Mungo's and now worked as an independent midwife. Reputed as one of the best, she saw the inside of many pureblood homes.

On and on it went, Severus and Hermione stalking silently from one corner to the next, waiting in the cold as Severus called one informer after another through the enchanted contracts they had all signed. One after another they approached the two dark figures, all eyeing Hermione's smaller form warily. Some had refused to approach the two of them, waiting until Severus had talked to them alone first. One by one they came to Severus and spilled their secrets, their tidbits of information.

"You have names for them," she remarked quietly as they waited for a man called Abraham (this section of Hogsmeade was named for the Old Testament). "What do they call you?"

She could see his face, and it was harsh and solemn in the night. "The Whisper Man," he said finally. "Only a fraction of them know who I am. It is safer that way. The only thing they know is that I deal in secrets, which are best told in whispers. They know to be afraid of me; they will only speak my name under their breath."

It was the darkest part of the night when Hermione and Severus reentered Hogwarts. Hermione's hands were clammy and she knew her face was pale, but she steeled herself regardless. The last thing she wanted was to give Severus the impression that she was too weak for this type of work.

The two were silent as they made their way back to Severus's quarters, hanging their cloaks on the hook and shivering in the cold air of the dungeons. The fire had gone out- Severus bent to restart it and Hermione drifted into the kitchen to make tea.

The kitchen was small and serviceable, only just large enough to brew tea and occasionally make a meal. It was the cooking area of a Hogwarts teacher for certain- most meals were taken in the Great Hall with the students. Hermione supposed that the only time Severus really used the small stove and the few cabinets was over breaks, if he stayed at Hogwarts, as was his habit.

The simple act of making tea calmed her mind and stopped the slight trembling of her fingers. She used the teapot they normally used, a beautiful work of black porcelain with small raised lines that formed a design like lace. It was strange to her, to imagine Severus Snape owning a thing of such beauty; most of his furniture and clothes were neat and in good shape, but not extravagant.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, carrying the tray over the sitting room, where Severus was sitting and staring at the fire.

He frowned up at her. "Get what?"

"This," Hermione said again, lifting the teapot and pouring. "It's beautiful."

For some reason Severus' jaw clenched and he looked away. "It is one of the few things I kept from my boyhood," he said, voice clipped and precise. "I believe that pot was originally my great-great-grandmother's. Mother's side."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. Sudden, burning curiosity swept through her. "What was she like?"

He wasn't looking at her- he refused to look at her, it seemed. "Why do you want to know?" His normally smooth voice was rough, like pieces of honey that had crystallized and hardened at the edges of the jar.

Why did she want to know?  _ Because I want to know everything about him. _ "I- she was your mother. She probably had a great deal to do with shaping you into the person you are and- well, if she was, then I'd thank her for it." It sounded terribly foolish to her, and for a moment Hermione worried that Severus was going to toss her bodily from his rooms.

But again he spoke, voice still strained. "Elaine Snape, nee Prince, was a witch who was stupid enough to think a Muggle loved her. She gave up her family, her fortune, and his magic for him and in return he beat her and the first time her son accidentally performed magic, he beat him too. She died at my father's hand when I was seventeen and by then I didn't care."

Hermione couldn't help but stare at him, stricken. "Severus-"

"My home life was not bearable," he hissed at her. "If you were wanting loving tales of doting parents and a loving family to make you feel better-"

"I wanted no such thing," Hermione interrupted. "I thought- well- you have to have some happy memories of your childhood!"

Something changed in his posture; if it was possible he went even stiffer and the line of his jaw hardened further. "You have no right to the happy moments of my childhood."

"Funny," Hermione said, anger and shame unsettling her stomach and taking away her self-control. "Because you've had plenty of mine."

"You jest," he sneered. "No one in their right mind-"

"Well then maybe I'm not in my right mind," Hermione snapped. "Think about it, Severus."

Perhaps he was thinking about it- the two of them went silent, Hermione staring into the fire, and Severus off into the corner where the liquor was held. When she tried sipping at her tea, it was lukewarm.  _ I screwed up, _ Hermione thought regretfully.

She stood, clumsily, nearly knocking over the tea set still on the table. "Sorry," she muttered.

"Where are you going?" Severus asked, and although his voice still held traces of his previous anger, it was milder.

Blood flooded to her cheeks and stained them red. "I've obviously upset you," Hermione said haltingly. "I'm sorry. I won't bother you any longer and-"

"Sit," Severus snapped at her. "And what?" When she finally met his eyes, he looked wary and slightly- scared? No- it was probably just her twisted perception.

She sat. "And my tea was cold?" She really didn't have a better reason.

He snorted, waving a hand at the teacup and muttering something under his breath that sent steam rising up in delicate swirls. "There."

"Thank you," Hermione said. Awkwardness colored her movements; her hands were jerky as she picked up the teacup once more and she drank too soon and burned her mouth. One hand picked at the hem of her skirt.

They sat in silence for a long time before either spoke again.

"Never breathe a word of what I tell you to Dumbledore," Severus said, voice clear. "Or Potter. Anyone."

"I would never," said Hermione quietly.

Apparently he had applied the same trick to his tea, because it was steaming as he raised his mug to his mouth. After some time, he said, "I know."

Curiosity wound through Hermione, creating a sensation quite like a person gets when the desire to fidget is strong but one is being watched by a stern teacher. Somehow she made herself composed, even as her internal dialogue spouted off in one direction.

_ He's actually going to tell me something- I can't believe it what is he going to say is it about his childhood he such a private man I can't believe he's going to tell me something about himself- _

"You already know that my father beat my mother and I, which is far more than most," Severus said at last. "McGonagall and Dumbledore knew, of course. Madame Pomfrey. Lucius. Narcissa, perhaps. Draco doesn't know. The Dark Lord knows. And-" he looked away from her, "Lily Evans."

All thought stopped for the slightest moment, and then Hermione's mind was blaring away. Even so, she had the sense not to interrupt.

"She was Lily Evans when we were children," continued Snape. "I- I used to watch her and her sister. I saw Lily doing magic one day and I wanted to see if her family was Wizarding or Muggle. I- they were Muggles, all of them, except for her."

Hermione couldn't contain herself anymore. "Lily Evans… as in Lily Potter?" she asked.

Severus nodded tersely. "It was different, back then. She cared about me in her own selfish way. She didn't like seeing people or animals hurt- but in the sense that she didn't like seeing it because if she did see it she could not pretend that cruelty didn't exist. Lily liked having a perfect world- both Evans girls did. Petunia wanted everything to be as normal as could be and Lily wanted to live in a fairy tale."

"Who- who were you to her?"

"I was Lily's introduction to magic," Severus said, and Hermione thought she could detect a certain bitterness in the way his voice curled around the other woman's name. That area inside her rib cage that had been all a-twitter lately clenched hard. "I told her about the Wizarding world, I told her about Hogwarts and spells and magic and she soaked it all in like a sponge. After she got her Hogwarts letter we- we  _ celebrated. _ She invited me over for dinner at her house one night and I made a mess out of it but all she did was laugh."

Hermione's gut was clenching and coiling mercilessly.  _ Did he love her? Lily Potter? Paragon of Virtue Lily Potter?  _ "And you were still friends at Hogwarts?"

He had a faraway look to his face now, a cast that told her he was speaking from the past and not the present. "Lily and I shared a compartment on September first, when our robes had no colored trims. I was so upset that she got Sorted into Gryffindor that I asked the Sorting Hat to place me there." There was definitely bitterness in his voice now. "It refused. It said that I was making the choice for the wrong reasons and that with my talents Gryffindor would break me and Slytherin would make me stronger. But Lily and I promised that we would stay friends forever, and that we would be the one to break House rivalries."

Hermione had an idea where it was going. "But it didn't stay that way?"

Severus made a sound low in his throat. "Everyone thinks of Lily Evans as the woman who gave birth to Harry Potter," he said angrily. "She became a martyr and lost all her faults in the process. They forget she was a selfish girl who held famously long grudges and was so determined to be surrounded in all that was pretty and light that she would actively turn her face from the darkness and say it didn't exist."

It broke her heart to see him this bitter. "She couldn't have been awful," Hermione whispered.

"She wasn't," Severus responded coldly, hands clenched tight on the arms of his chair. He had discarded the tea a while ago. "She was beautiful and intelligent and bright- she captured the heart of anyone who talked to her for five minutes and as long as they only talked to her in five-minute increments she was extraordinarily kind and pretty and smart. Lily had a mask that she showed the world and the only reason she ever dropped it around me was because I wasn't important enough to warrant impressing."

"What did she do to you?" Hermione asked, aware of the sadness in her voice. "Severus, what did she do to you?"

He met her eyes for the first time since he had mentioned Lily Evans. "You're the only person who would ask me that," he said after a long pause. "Everyone else would have asked me what I did to her."

She waited for him to answer. Fatigue was bearing down on Hermione- it was close to dawn, and she still hadn't slept. The weariness and the sadness had lowered her boundaries, and the haze of drowsiness over her mind and eyes gave the entire conversation a type of surreal atmosphere, as if she was wrapped in a veil and stuck in a dream.

"She acted like she- we worked on Potions together. Invented spells. Read books and talked about them. But- we grew apart. Lucius had already ordered some of the older Slytherins to befriend me, and James Potter was slowly changing Lily's mind." The way he had said the name 'James Potter' was more than Hermione could handle. "They were- they used my own spells against me and were-" His tone suddenly changed, becoming far more clinical. "Lily stepped in to tell Potter off. I was upset, humiliated- I called her a Mudblood."

Hermione could taste blood in her mouth from where she bit at her lip. "And she was mad?"

"From then on we were no longer friends," Snape said bitterly. "She had been looking for a way out of our friendship for a while, and this was the perfect excuse. A year later she was laughing whenever Potter mocked me and a year after that she and Potter were announcing their engagement." He paused for a long moment. 

Hermione's head was spinning- there was so much information, so much revealed to her, almost too much about Severus and his past and his history. "I'm sorry," said Hermione honestly. "Severus- I'm so sorry."

His face was blank, but his hands were still tightly clenched and there was a sense of controlled anger and sadness around him. "So now you understand," he said simply. "Why. Why I protect Potter and why I'm the bitter old man that I am."

It hit her in a moment that was quite unlike anything Hermione had ever experienced before; the growing sense of dread deepened and she just wanted to close her eyes and struggle to breathe.  _ He loved her. They weren't just friends, he was in love with her. That's why he did what he did- why he turned- it was all for Lily's sake, and he protects her son because he could not protect her. _

She wanted to keen her grief, so sharp and sudden, a realization that she had lost something she could never have had in the first place, something that she had only vaguely assumed she wanted before it was taken away and she had discovered she needed it like she needed air or blood or magic.

"You betrayed the Death Eaters for her, didn't you?" she made herself ask. "That's how Dumbledore knows he can trust you, it's in all the cryptic hints he's always dropping-"

"Hints?" Severus interjected sharply. "He's-" he couldn't continue.

"No, no," said Hermione, shaking her head. "They wouldn't make sense in any context but this one and it's so- forgive me, but it's so far fetched I don't see how anyone could make the connection."  _ Remus might, _ she thought to herself.  _ If he doesn't already know. Sirius. Maybe that's why he hates Severus so much- because he knows that the only reason Severus is on our side is because he was in love with the wife of his dead friend. _

The tears were threatening, and her control was weak from weariness. She yawned widely, standing on trembling legs. "I need to go sleep," she said, almost tripping over her words in her haste. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Hermione regarded the Room of Requirement with awe, Harry and Ron trailing in behind her. A room that could become whatever the witch or wizard wanted it to be? Filled with books that had to have come from somewhere, but those Hermione had never seen in the Hogwarts Library? Where one could think of a thing and it would appear?

Shivers ran down her spine. She wasn't quite sure that the presence and capabilities of this room should be made known to the general population of Hogwarts. In fact, she was sure of it.

"Harry, Ron," she called, putting down the book she had been using a cover to think furiously. "Come here."

They didn't question the authority in her voice. She made sure her face was dead serious, meeting both their eyes before focusing on Harry.

"We tell no one about the properties of this room," she said harshly. "No one. Not Ginny, not Cho, no one."

They both gaped at her. "But Hermione-" Ron began.

"No one," Hermione insisted, cutting him off with a wave of her hand for emphasis. "Do you realize what someone could do with this place? I'll need to test it, but Ron, it's dangerous. Someone could wish for a room that would contain undetectable poisons, ask it to hide him or her from a search party, or even request an unblocked Floo into Hogwarts. They could hide dangerous things inside of here, they could work on illegal projects undetected, they could ask for Polyjuice or an Invisibility Cloak or an enchanted dagger and  _ no one would be the wiser." _

Harry's face hardened into a frown. "That's a bit dramatic, Hermione."

She put the book down with a thump, then concentrated. If she had blinked, she would have missed the movement. The floor beneath Harry and Ron had sunk into two cylindrical pits, six feet deep and three across. The two boys were trapped. "Do you want me to ask the room to fill those with water?" asked Hermione dangerously. "Or with Devil's Snare? Or with snakes? Because I'm sure whatever it is that controls this room would oblige me."

Both the boys were staring up at her, with fear etched into their faces. Harry's eyes were narrowed, glaring up at her. Ron was turning red.

"We can just wish ourselves out," stated Harry grimly.

Hermione allowed a cool smirk to drift onto her face. "Try."

Now it was Harry's face that was turning a bright red as he strained. Hermione felt the pull on her will, and strengthened her resolve. Finally, the boy stopped. Hermione waited until he let out a snarl and punched the wall before she closed her eyes and ordered the Room of Requirement to let the floor rise again, so that Harry and Ron were standing on level ground.

_ He almost got me. It's only because I've had more training in the mind arts than Harry's had that I was able to come out on top. In a contest of power, he'd win. If we had started training him at the same time as I started, he would be invincible. _

_ I'm not going to think about why they chose not to do that. _

She swallowed, and looked at the ground and then at them. "Now do you understand? I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't thought it was important."

Harry was breathing hard. "Yeah. I see. We don't tell them about what it can do. We just tell them that we found a used classroom."

Hermione shook her head, impatiently pushing back curls that flopped into her face. "Closer to the truth. We asked the house-elves for help and they outfitted a room for us. I warded it, so that the only people who can unlock it are Harry and me, and anyone who tries gets a nasty surprise. That way, people won't come in here in their spare time, and won't question all the great stuff. House-elves are notorious for being overly helpful. And we need to make sure that one of us three is here before every meeting and that we are the last ones to leave. Agreed?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "Agreed," said Harry.

Ron nodded. "Agreed." He sighed. "Fred and George would have loved this, though." His face contorted in horror. "Fred and George- they'll know about it because of the Map!"

"Check it," Hermione ordered Harry. "I didn't think it was on there."

It wasn't, thankfully, and they were just putting the Map away when Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean entered.

More and more people trickled in, all exclaiming over the room. Even in her unease, Hermione had to admit that it was magnificent. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases and instead of chairs, there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that made Hermione think of the fake Moody's office.

Everyone had questions about the room, questions that Harry couldn't quite manage without looking shifty. Instead, Hermione took over, exclaiming with bright eyes and a brighter tone over the generosity of the house-elves. "You'd best treat them with respect, now," she said, sweeping a stern eye at the children assembled before her, Harry, and Ron. "They did us a great service at possible danger to themselves."  _ I might be pushing my agenda a bit but really, the house-elves do deserve it. _

"Now we need to get started, officially," she continued. "It's rather a formality at this point, but we need to elect a leader and choose a name for ourselves."

Harry was rather quickly elected. It was an excellent progression of events in Hermione's opinion, seeing how they automatically chose him as their leader. The name the group selected as a bit combative for Hermione's own taste, but "Dumbledore's Army" wasn't all that bad.

Hermione was also quite proud that Harry had chosen an excellent place to start without her input. The Disarming Charm was rather simple, extremely useful, and easy to learn. She couldn't have chosen better herself- well, she would have chosen a shielding spell, but it was Harry's style to go on the offensive rather than the defensive, and this was his class. She and Ron worked with Neville, and after a moment's consideration Hermione waved Luna over.

"I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk since term started," Hermione said in a bright voice to the other girl. "We'll have to find a time to talk, won't we?"

Luna regarded her with a dreamy stare. "You have the time," she said in a tone that matched her face. "But at the same time, you don't. I see."

_ Curious. This girl may have the Sight- or maybe she's just more observant than she looks. I'll have to pay closer attention to this one. _ "Then maybe this weekend we can meet in the Library and do homework or something," Hermione offered.

Luna smiled. "I'd like that," the younger girl said. "Will Ginny come too?"

"I'll have to see," Hermione hedged. She wanted time to talk to this strange girl alone. "You and me? Do you want to go first?"

"Sure," Luna said, her smile widening. Hermione let her will weaken, allowing Luna to disarm her. It was always slightly painful, the wrenching of her wand from her hand.

But still, Luna had done quite a good job. "Excellent," Hermione said in praise. "My turn!"

The meeting progressed nicely- and Harry's leadership abilities were beginning to show. He had toured the room, making sure every pair got feedback and advice. Well, except for Cho Chang. With more than a small bit of sneaking suspicion, Hermione watched as Harry circled Cho. Had Dumbledore decided to spell him to no longer find the Asian girl attractive?

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when he finally approached her.  _ I think she likes him too. At least, she got so nervous when Harry approached that she set her friend's robes on fire. Oh dear. _

The first meeting of Dumbledore's Army adjourned soon after. Harry sent out the students in groups of two or three, using the Marauder's Map. The date for the next meeting was hastily set, and soon everyone was in their Common Rooms.

As Hermione undressed that night, brushing out her hair behind the privacy of her curtains, she considered going to see Severus. It had been such a routine thing, lately, to stop and see him every other night, just to talk or exchange plans or information.

_ This is ridiculous. I saw him hours ago, there is no way I can miss him.  _ But seeing Professor Snape wasn't the same as seeing Severus, her Severus, the one that revealed painfully aching truths about Lily Potter.

_ He calls her Lily Evans. _

For the last day, every time Hermione had thought of Severus (Severus with his eyes and his lovely hands and his voice that sent shivers through her) the pleasantly happy feelings had turned queasy as soon as she recalled his eyes and his hands and his voice as he spoke about Lily.

She remembered looking over Harry shoulder at a photograph of the Order. Her eyes had been immediately drawn to the woman with the bright red hair, the laughing green eyes.  _ "Your mother was so beautiful, Harry. She looks so happy. She has that, that presence, even in a picture. You can't help but notice how happy she looks. She has the man, the friends, the purpose. From what Sirius and Remus have told us, she was popular- well-liked, confident and such. You can tell just by looking at her."  _ Hermione remembered telling Harry that honestly, admiring Lily Potter as she laughed with her husband's arm around her. She remembered thinking that she was nothing like the woman, that she was nothing like Lily Potter with her friends and her loving husband and her beauty. She remembered deciding that she was happy anyway-  _ because she had Severus and Harry and Ron and they would be her James Potter and Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. _

And now?

She didn't have Severus Snape- she would never have him. He had given his life- his sanity, his happiness, his service- all for Lily Evan's sake. How could she compare to that? Paragon of Virtue Lily Potter? But Severus hadn't known her as a paragon of virtue, he had known the girl who sounded mean and vindictive and charming to Hermione, and he had loved her anyway.

_ At least now you know that Severus Snape really is capable of love. _

_ And you know why he left the Death Eaters. _

_ And maybe even why he joined them in the first place. _

_ Points One and Two, the first two things you wanted to know. Are you proud of yourself, Hermione? Are you happy now? How much farther will you go? Do you still want to know all those things? What else are you going to learn and how much is it going to hurt you? _

She had no answers for herself. Even as her inner voice took a scathing tone, even as she folded herself into a ball and sobbed into her bed.

"Hermione?" Lavender's tentative voice, high pitched and worried, broke Hermione's tears.

_ Shit. I forgot the spells.  _ Hermione groped for her wand, shoving her power into a nonverbal Glamour. She kept her hands covering her face, waiting for it to work.

"Is she okay?" Parvati's hushed voice was addressed to Lavender. "Should- should we do something?"

Hermione sat up. "I'm fine," she croaked. "I- I meant to put up spells- I-" The humiliation of it all and the sagging weight of her sadness and anger pulled Hermione back into her tears.

The bed creaked to one side, and a warm arm was around Hermione's shoulders. Lavender was motherly, if twittery sometimes, and she smelled of face potions and the rosewater scent she liked. It was a smell that had been in Hermione's dorm since her first night at Hogwarts- she had never realized it before, but it was as much a scent that reminded her of home as the smell of Severus did. She cried harder, leaning into the girl's comforting embrace.

"It's okay, Hermione," Lavender whispered. "Everything gets better in time."

Parvati sat on Hermione's other side, snaking an arm around her waist. "Everything," she agreed. "What's bothering you?"

Unlike most dorm mates, Hermione and Lavender and Parvati had never really been close- well, Lavender and Parvati were best friends but that intense friendship didn't typically include Hermione. They would stay up late talking while Hermione read, and their snores usually accompanied Hermione out the door of the dorm to see Severus. She had always felt disconnected from them. Her initial shyness she had covered with brass snottiness had distanced the rule-loving girl from the two who adored boys and makeup. And then Hermione's training had started- she had no time for silly girls who didn't care about anything important.

But now these girls, these girls she had constantly dismissed, were the ones with their thin warm arms around her as she cried- real tears this time. Guilt for every time she had lied to them or disparaged them in her head curdled in Hermione's stomach.

"I'm overwhelmed, that's all," Hermione managed. "I- I don't handle stress well and there's a lot of it right now."

She could sense Lavender and Parvati glancing at each other over her head. "Oh?" Lavender asked, inflecting her voice to convey just the barest hint of scepticism. "I thought those sobs sounded like boy problems."

Hermione's lips stretched in a humorless smile. "You could say that," she hedged. She didn't want to lie to them- but neither did she want to admit that she had a major case of unrequited love for their Potions professor.

"I knew it," Lavender said sympathetically. "I thought I hadn't seen a letter from Viktor yet this week."

_ Viktor- Viktor Krum? Oh- that. When I did get a letter it was in my other room. _

Parvati wrinkled her delicate nose in disdain. "Mūrkha. He's not worth crying over, Hermione, international Quidditch star or no."

"Weren't you supposed to visit him over the summer?" Lavender asked. "Or was that just something the papers made up?"

Hermione wiped at her eyes. "No, that was real," she admitted. "He invited me to his summer home, but I couldn't go."

"Why?" questioned Parvati. "He might have thought you weren't interested because you didn't go."

Hermione sighed. "After everything that happened- I had to stay in the country. In hiding, with Harry and Ron."

The faces of both girls lit with realization. "Oh," Lavender breathed. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Parvati sighed. "Things kind of really suck right now, don't they?"

The other two girls looked at her and nodded. "Yeah," added Lavender. "How old are we? Fifteen? Well, you're sixteen, Hermione, but still. And there's talk about another war coming and the only thing we can do to learn to defend ourselves is an illegal Defense club taught by another fifteen-year-old kid." There was a worldly weariness in Lavender's voice that surprised Hermione.

"And that kid is our only hope," Hermione said in a tired voice. "Harry Potter. Fifteen. Faced Voldemort on four separate occasions. And he has to do it again, or we're all lost." She shrugged. "At least it's him, if it has to be a fifteen-year-old kid."

Lavender shivered. "I wouldn't want to be Harry."

"Harry doesn't want to be Harry," Hermione said wryly. "But he'll do it, and he'll win."

"I hope so," Parvati said, squeezing Hermione once before pulling away. "He's not so bad. Even if he can't dance at all."

Hermione grinned up at her friend. "I wanted to work on it over the summer but we never had time," she said, giggling. "Remind me before we leave for winter break and I’ll make sure no other girl’s toes are sacrificed to the Chosen One!"

"Will do," Parvati promised. "Goodnight, Hermione. You'll be okay?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. The laughter had pushed back the depressing sadness a bit, making it more bearable. "Yeah. Goodnight."

Lavender crawled out of Hermione's bed, stretching. "See you tomorrow. And if you want to, Hermione, you can borrow my special mint and citrus shampoo tomorrow. It always makes me feel better." The blonde girl ambled off to her bed, pulling the curtains closed with a wave of her hand.

Hermione did the same, enclosing herself in the red and gold velvet. She firmly pushed the anger and sadness aside. It wouldn't do. She had things to do- reports to read, a busy journalist to check up upon, and reports to write for the next Order meeting.

She started with the journal she used to communicate with Rita Skeeter. The journalist's deliberately messy handwriting irked Hermione- she had warned the Animagus to write neatly before. Going through the latest gossip was not relaxing as much as it was numbing in its mundane nature. Mr. Important was having an affair with Mrs. Pretty, Mr. Jealous was plotting Mr. Successful's downfall, human nature's bad side captured again and again and again from an eavesdropper and a sneak. It was quick work to approve all the little snippets of information and move on to the reports.

There was a stack to read and a stack to write- but writing involved analyzing Death Eater movements and information and that involved thinking about Severus, so Hermione put those off. There was enough to keep her eyes moving left to right until the early hours of the morning- that would do. She would read until she fell asleep.

With a sigh, Hermione grabbed the first on the pile, grimacing at Remus' scrawl. Well, there was a reason she had put this one on the top. The werewolves were starting to regroup and she needed to keep on top of things. She tied back her hair and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 20.
> 
> The next chapter is when things start to heat up... can't wait to share it with you! Stay safe everyone. Comments and kudos appreciated!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday everyone! I hope that you all are staying safe and well. Here is what you've all been waiting for (130k in )!

**_Chapter 21_ **

Over the next two weeks, Hermione's routine solidified. She went to classes, using her Time-Turner to garner extra time in which to read and write her Order reports, attend meetings, sort through spy reports, and run to quick, hurried meetings with Severus. At least Harry was easy to watch- the DA meetings had given him purpose, a battle to fight. He was doing something, and the act of actively working against Umbridge and her hateful classes gave him hope.

Hermione worked hard on a way to organize meetings efficiently; finally, she settled on a kind of adaptive Protean Charm that would allow one charmed Galleon to manipulate others. She didn't tell Harry, but she made sure her Galleon could change the others as well. She wanted to make sure she had a way of rallying his followers should she need it.

And the DA was really starting to come together as a group. The shared danger of discovery by Umbridge meant a shared sense of solidarity. There were more significant looks and more hushed conversations than Hermione would have liked, but she was extraordinarily pleased with the inter-House unity being shown. There were more friendly conversations in the hallways, and as a Prefect, Hermione was quite aware that it was setting an excellent example for the younger years. The only House excluded was Slytherin- Hermione wondered what Severus would say about this, but she was actively trying to avoid him.

It was more difficult than it seemed to avoid a man who spent most of his day teaching and the other measly parts either holed up in his office, his quarters, or in meetings with either the Dark Lord or Dumbledore. Hermione hadn't quite realized how much of her time had been habitually spent in the man's presence. Instead, Hermione filled her time with her other tasks, and devoted several hours to cultivating a new friendship (one-third of her mind called it an alliance and the other third was horrified before she ignored both with the third that was sane) with Luna Lovegood.

The first day that Hermione was supposed to meet Luna in the library to study, the girl showed up half an hour late and barefoot.

"Hello, Hermione. You're annoyed I've kept you waiting, aren't you- I'm sorry." Large grey eyes stared at Hermione as white fingers plucked helplessly at the strap of her bag.

"No- of course not. Is everything alright?" asked Hermione, putting aside her books. "Luna?"

The younger girl's voice was even more distant than usual when she answered, "Yes. The Dapperblimps took my shoes again- they like living in them because their noses are very small-"

_ Defense mechanism, I think. She uses fictional creatures to rationalize the things that happen to her that she doesn't understand. _

"Luna," Hermione said, as gently as she could "Dapperblimps don't exist. You need shoes,  _ now." _

Luna blinked her large, protuberant grey eyes. "I'll owl Daddy that I need some for Christmas," she said, still distant-voiced. She heaved her massive bag on the table (it was nearly the size Hermione's had been during her fourth year) and sat down across from Hermione.

"But- Luna-" Hermione was getting frustrated. "Dapperblimps aren't real. What if whoever took your shoes takes them again?"

Luna's eyes sharpened. "They are real. They have different noses than we do, which is why shoes don't bother th-" The girl's voice was getting higher and higher, straining.

"They aren't real!" Hermione’s voice was far too loud for Madam Pince, who directed a glare her way. "Sorry," muttered Hermione. "Luna-" She stopped herself. Tears were starting to build in the younger girl's eyes.

Hermione swallowed hard, fingering her wand. "Do you know how to cast a Warming Charm?" she asked suddenly, willing to do nearly anything to make the cold feeling of unfolding guilt and hideous wrath go away. "For your feet in case the Dapperblinger- sorry, Dapperblimps- take your shoes again?

Now Hermione was reevaluating the way Luna was dressed, the way she talked, why she wore radishes in her ears.  _ It's October and it is freezing outside. Hell, it's freezing inside. I'm wearing my uniform, a sweater, and my thick wool robes on top of that. Luna's not wearing a sweater- she just has her vest. No shoes, no stockings, nothing for her poor feet. I wonder if she refuses to wear or bring nice jewelry to Hogwarts because people steal her things? And I just nearly yelled at her about it. _

"No, I don't," Luna said, looking away. Hermione pretended not to notice as the girl brushed her eyes, removing the tears. "That would be really nice of you- my feet are awfully cold."

With shaking hands Hermione taught Luna how to do the charm, sighing in relief as the skin of the girl's feet went from a dangerously blueish pale color to something more life-like. They did homework and chatted a bit. Hermione was extremely apologetic- she bit her tongue every time a fictional creature entered their conversation. Luna's smile grew wider and more visible as the night went on- she laughed at a silly Transfiguration pun Hermione made and proceeded to make several of her own in quick succession. The night would have been entirely pleasant had it not been for the bitter, burning rage at the back of Hermione's throat.

Something in her whispered that it was easier to be angry at someone else than to be angry at herself.

When Hermione checked her watch and saw that it was really quite close to curfew, she sighed and began packing her bag. "Luna, what size shoe are you?"

"Five," Luna replied. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to try to transfigure you some shoes," Hermione replied stubbornly. "What's your favorite color?"  _ I can't leave her to walk back to Ravenclaw Tower barefoot. The stone floors have to be freezing. _

Luna beamed at Hermione. "Purple. Do you really think you can?"

Hermione nodded as she pulled her hair back. She had found two balls of yarn in her bag, from her rather abandoned knitting projects. They would do. "I think so," she answered Luna. "They won't last forever, though, so we should get your real shoes back from- whoever took them."

The transfiguration was not straightforward. Hermione had to first change the amount of material, separate it into two equal piles, then get those piles to form rubber soles and canvas out of wool. It took about fifteen minutes, but Hermione finally got two things that looked like shoes, and would probably fit Luna if the girl wore some thick socks. The last step was to tap the soles and turn them white, and the canvas to turn that part purple.

Hermione collapsed back in her chair. "There," said Hermione, grinning. "Done." She gestured at Luna. "Try them on?"

She had been close with the size- they did fit alright, and anything was better than cold flagstones on bare feet. Luna stood happily in the Library, wigging her toes. "These are wonderful, Hermione," Luna said, sounding more awake than she had all night.

Hermione stood, just a bit dizzy. She had forgotten to eat dinner- on the way back to her room, she would stop at the kitchens. "Good," she said, the anger receding somewhat at the look on Luna's face.

Suddenly, two thin arms were around Hermione's body, hugging her tightly as dirty-blonde hair appeared under her nose. "Nobody but Daddy's ever done anything like this for me," Luna whispered.

Hermione hugged the girl back. "It's what friends do, Luna," she whispered back.

The protuberant grey eyes were a bit damp as Luna pulled away. "We're friends, then," Luna said, a bit unsure.

"Of course," answered Hermione. "There. You have shoes, at least for tonight and tomorrow, and I'll see about tracking down those- those Dapperblimps and telling them that your shoes are needed."

That night as Hermione was in her bed, she plotted. There was a side of herself that she wasn't quite fond of, the secret Hermione in her head that could coldly kill and devise plans that she knew would end with people dead. That Hermione was cold, freezing. She was not one for emotional hot anger that came and went like flame. This hrm had anger that burned like ice on warm skin. That side plotted now, the side with frigid fingers and an icy smile.

It was easier than thinking she had just made a little girl nearly cry because she couldn't handle her saying something was real when it wasn't. Hermione hated people spreading the wrong information- but this was a girl who used fictional creatures as a coping mechanism for dealing with bullying. It was wrong to try to take that away from her.

Luna Lovegood was a fourteen-year-old girl who had lost her mother at the tender age of nine. She was a sharply intelligent witch who clung to whimsy and fantastical creatures because the real world, in all its cruelty, hurt too much. She didn't deserve Housemates- who were supposed to be like  _ family _ \- stealing her things and leaving her to walk the halls of Hogwarts in October  _ barefoot. _ She didn't deserve people who called themselves her friends making her cry.

The next morning, Hermione rose early and waited, spelled invisible, in the corridor that led from Ravenclaw Tower to the Great Hall.

Thankfully, Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, Cho Chang, Marietta, and three other Ravenclaws were all walking together. One of them was a sixth year Ravenclaw Prefect- it was enough. Hermione Disillusioned herself, and stepped out of her niche.

Padma almost walked right into her. "Hermione!" she gasped. "What- sorry! What are you doing here?"

"I need to speak to you," Hermione said, her voice low and serious. "All of you, actually," she said louder, meeting the eyes of one of the girls who was edging away. She was quite aware that her tone was frosty, and edging on dangerous. What Hermione didn't know was that her eyes were furious, and the control of her carefully neutral expression was slipping.

"What about?" Padma asked, glancing nervously at Anthony. "The- um-" One of the girls was not in the D.A., and it was clear that Padma thought that the confrontation was about the secret club.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head once. "No, this about Luna Lovegood."

One of Cho's friends giggled. "Loony Lovegood?"

Hermione turned her gaze to the redheaded girl. "Three of you are prefects, and yet you do nothing to stop the bullying taking place  _ right in front of you _ ?" Anthony and Padma looked at each other guiltily.

Cho sighed. "It's just a nickname, Hermione-"

"No it isn't," Hermione snapped. "That poor girl has been walking around Hogwarts barefoot because someone took her shoes. Do you think that it is  _ funny _ to steal someone's things? To call them mad and mock them to their faces and behind their backs? Do you think that Luna doesn't  _ know _ she's a little strange? For Merlin's sake, you are the prefects of her House. She should be able to come to you for help in anything, and not one of you has put a stop to it."

They really had nothing to say, Hermione noted with a quiet glee. "I should report you all to Professor Flitwick, and I will if all of Luna's things aren't returned to her."

"We aren't the ones who took her stuff!" Cho said crossly. "You're not being reasonable, Hermione-"

"I am being perfectly reasonable," Hermione snapped back. "And I don't care. You're just as responsible for a deed if you stand by and watch it happen without doing all in your power to stop it. It isn't right, and I'm not going to stand by."

Anthony sighed. "It's not like we have the authority-"

"You are prefects," Hermione interrupted. "And from what I've heard, Ravenclaws are supposed to be smart. So you know who it is who's doing this. Stop. Them. And if you can't control your House, we'll see if Professor Flitwick can."

Padma looked desperately at the older Ravenclaw prefect. "Um- we'll do our best, Hermione. Okay?"

Hermione rubbed her temple. "I'm holding  _ all _ of you to that," she said ruefully. "I'll see you later."

Her anger warmed slightly, she left for her own breakfast.

* * *

The night had been one series of disasters after another.

Hermione had never really liked Quidditch in any capacity- she disliked the obsession it caused in people, the bad spirit between the Houses it brought out, and the complete idiocy of having children on broomsticks several meters up in the air whacking iron Bludgers at each other.

The high point of the morning had been Luna's rather lovely lion hat- Hermione hadn't said anything to the boys, but she was extremely proud of Luna for doing not only all the construction, but all the spell work by herself. It was complicated material for a fourth year- even a fourth year Ravenclaw.

That good mood had quickly evaporated as soon as she had heard the first wretched strains of "Weasley is Our King," floating around the Great Hall. That it was Ron's first game was bad enough, but taking advantage of his lack of self-confidence and his sensitivity about being poor? Fred and George would have been able to handle such a thing better (but no one would dare do such a thing to them and risk being the target of some of the less funny and more painful pranks of the Weasley Twins).

The game itself had been horrid- Hermione usually had Ron up in the stands with her, translating all the jargon and making predictions about the game that usually came true. This time, Neville was all she had and he was clueless (adorably so) and unable to provide much support.

Then after the game, Umbridge, with her sharp smile and trilling laugh, had taken away one of the two things keeping Harry sane. Quidditch and the DA was all he had, and she had gleefully given him a lifelong Quidditch ban.

Hermione didn't know if it was possible to hate the woman even more than she already did. She had thought that the Quidditch ban was as bad as it was going to get and then- Hagrid. Hagrid was in danger and that  _ bitch _ and her prejudices were the reason why.

The thought of Hagrid leaving Hogwarts made Hermione's heart clench. The half-giant was a friendly beast of a man, kind and gentle and not as bright as some, but with magical creatures he was the most intuitive person Hermione had ever seen. Unicorns, chimaeras, dragons, hippogriffs... he could work with them all. He saw good in the creatures everyone called evil, because he could relate to them. That Hagrid could see himself in an Acromantula and show it the love he wished he had been shown by others- it had always made Hermione want to smile and cry at the same time. He had always treated her kindly, given her tea when she stopped by, sick or frustrated or exhausted, and let her talk.

Umbridge was out to get Hagrid, and Hermione could not stand by and watch it happen.

But at the same time, it would hurt Hagrid if she tried to make him change the way he taught.

She needed to talk to someone- and the only person that she could possibly talk to was Severus.

* * *

It had been weeks since she had talked to him.

The first few days, Severus understood. It would take her time to digest what he had told her, the unsolicited information she had received unexpectedly. But as time dragged on, he fluctuated between angry and resigned.

He had expected her to understand, to take in his tale like she took in all information- impartially, unbiased and sympathetic. But no, she had failed him. He had noticed the horror on her face, the wince every time Lily's name was spoken. Thinking about the two of them had been too much for the girl. He had placed too much on her, he had hit her threshold.

But why should he have expected her to be as unfazed by this as she was by all else? And it was about time that she looked at him the way others did. She was not special, she was no different from anyone else. This had been the point that she realized what kind of man he was- usually it took less time. Hermione just saw the good in everyone, so it was harder for her to admit to herself that she had been wrong about him.

When she gave him reports, she hardly looked him in the eye. She didn't stay for a cup of tea, she didn't break into his rooms and make herself tea and grade papers. She didn't even sit down- she leaned against the back of the chair in front of his desk and gave her information in clipped speeches. Or worse, she wrote them up and he found them on his chair when he walked in from dinner.

He hated himself for missing her. A girl, a mere girl, had his emotions in her palm. He refused to watch her, but her mane of bushy hair was always right around the corner. Dumbledore had even noticed his despondence- he had remarked upon it once, ignoring the baleful glare Severus sent his way.

The expected knock on his door was not timid, but it was not confident either. He sighed. "Enter," he snapped.

The door opened and closed; a small shimmer wavered in the air for a half a second before Hermione's form was revealed.

"If this is about Potter's ban, I already heard. McGonagall was furious," he said shortly. "Anything else?"

For once, she actually took a seat. He ignored the flash of eager hope that threaded his abdomen. "Hagrid," she said, turning liquid brown eyes on him. "Severus, he's back. And- that- that awful woman is going to do everything in her power to get rid of him."

She cared about the half-giant, wanted to protect him and his poisonous friends from Umbridge. She didn't care that he had been half a week late coming back, that his mission to the giants had been a complete failure. No- the giant was still deserving of her love.

The revelation travelled with sickening quickness from his gut to his mouth. "So he's worth caring about?" That she would chose  _ Hagrid _ over himself, over Severus, stung more than he cared to admit.

"What?" Confusion reigned on her face- the slanted eyebrows, the slight tilt of the head, the teeth sneaking out to tease her lower lip.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Severus hissed angrily, standing. "I told you things I-" he couldn't go on. He shut his mouth and clenched his jaw.

Hermione stood as well, shakily. "Severus... I didn't mean to- I needed to think, that was all-"

He couldn't think of anything more to say. What was there to say? _ I trusted you, and you betrayed me. I opened up to you and you decided that you didn't like what you saw. Why?  _ So he just looked away.

Severus shoved back his chair sharply, circling the desk to stand by the door. "My apologies. It would be best if you left." He needed her to go- after so long without her presence, suddenly she was in front of him and more intoxicating than ever. It was like abstaining from rich food for months and then gorging oneself- it was too much to handle at one time.

His hand was on the doorknob, and then her hand was over his. The contrast between the freezing metal of the doorknob and the quiet heat of her hand rooted him in place. "Severus," Hermione said softly. So softly- her voice was barely above a whisper. Her hand was hot on his- his hands were always cold in the dungeons.

He turned his head so he was looking at her, not the wall. "I shouldn't have-"

" _ I  _ shouldn't have," Hermione said forcefully. "I needed time to think but I shouldn't have completely avoided you."

"So you were avoiding me?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She met his eyes instead of looking away, as he had thought she would do. "Yes," she said honestly. "But I shouldn't have."

She still hadn't moved her hand. "Why?" asked Severus hoarsely. It wasn't hot enough to be burning him, but he was acutely aware of the line of every single one of her fingers.

"Because how could anyone compete with Lily Potter?" Hermione said, rhetorically, perhaps. There was sorrow in her eyes. "How could such awful things happen to you?"

He moved impossibly closer to her. "Why would you need to compete with Lily?" There was the scent of her hair, of her skin, of Hermione and rose hips and books. This close he could see the faded freckles across the bridge of her nose, the small scar on her temple half-hidden by her hair, the indents on her lower lip from her teeth.

There was no mistaking her wince. There was something warring in her face- he could tell when she gave in to whatever it was. Peace- fear, but peace with her decision came over her. "Because you love her," Hermione told him painfully. Her eyes closed. "Everything you did- it was for her."

Why would that matter to her? "That's not true," said Severus. His voice had dipped lower as her fingers twitched over his. "I- I never loved her."

Hermione's eyes flew open. He noticed too many details about them- her pupils were dilated, there were flecks of light from the torch on the other side of the room, they were focused completely on his. "No?" Her voice was strained, with none of its usual confidence.

_ I do not owe her an explanation _ . He did not owe her one- he wanted to give her one, he wanted to explain himself to her. "We- she used me and I used her. I attached myself to her because she was the first person to show me she cared, and I overlooked all her flaws. It was not love, and I did all of this because I knew I had made a mistake and I wanted to fix it." The words spilt out of him in a rush, strung together in a flood of desire to explain himself. "I joined the Death Eaters for a number of reasons and feeling that I owed her was one of them; I left them because I asked the Dark Lord to spare her, he promised, and then he broke that promise. She was my first friend- I could not align myself with the man who killed her. I turned to Dumbledore as an idealistic boy who thought he was heroically doing the right thing and I swore to protect her son because I owed a Life Debt to James Potter and my sanity to Lily Evans."

"So you risk your life for..?" Hermione's words were slow and unsure. "Honor? Gratitude? Because you owed a debt to the Potters?"

Severus exhaled sharply. "Yes. No. Why do you care?"

"Because you are a good man, Severus Snape," Hermione said softly.

"Why did you care if I loved Lily?" The question prickled the lining of his throat.

The movement of her head made the lights in her eyes glint. "Why did you care if I was avoiding you?"

Awareness of her breathing, of her fingers caressing the skin on the top of his hand (the fragile and sensitive skin), of the fullness of her lower lip, cluttered his mind. If they were standing any closer, her body would be pressed up against his. His breath was moving the hair on the top of her head.

She looked away from him, her gaze going to where her hand rested on top of his. Slowly, deliberately, her thumb swept a path from the base of his thumb across the top of his hand to the joint of his first finger, then back.

It was the easiest thing to bring his other hand up to the side of her face, to turn her head gently until she was looking at him, eyes wide. Her pupils had dilated farther. There was only the slightest ring of brown around the black. Her mouth was barely open.

Severus Snape was a man known for his self-control, but there was little that could have stopped him from pressing his mouth to hers. The courage it had taken had overridden the part screaming that it was a terrible idea, that  _ she was his student _ .

She did not stiffen, she did not try to pull away. Rather, she arched into the kiss, sliding closer to him and rising on the balls of her feet as she tilted her head up. He had miscalculated on the first try; his lips only brushed hers. Her hand slid up his arm to circle his neck, he had drawn back to try again and she was pulling his head down to hers, winding her fingers in his hair.

Her eagerness excited him, and Severus crushed her to him, taking her lower lip in his. Thought didn't flee his mind, rather, it slowed then focused entirely on Hermione. Her lips were moving demandingly against his, her body was pressed tightly to him, her hair was heavy and thick against the hand behind her head. He wanted to engulf her, to consume her entirely. The taste of Hermione was intoxicating, heady, it was turning his head. He could focus on nothing but her and him, how intensely he was feeling everything about her.

A crick was developing in his neck; the wall was close. It was the work of a moment to scoop her up and press her against the stone of the wall. His mouth didn't leave hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist agreeably, and continued kissing him.

An amused part of his mind noted that she was a novice- she tried to enthusiastically imitate him. He bit down on her lower lip gently, then moved his lips from hers to the line of her jaw, and then her neck. She smelled like her flowery shampoo, like clean sweat and the cold and snowy night she had just come from. He suckled at her pulse; she made a strangled noise and tightened her fingers in his hair.

"Severus," she gasped.

It was his name that brought him back to reality, the husky tone of Hermione's familiar voice that grounded him again. The truth flooded him- he was in his office, he was kissing his student, he had her pressed against the wall and her fingers were just as tangled in her hair as his were in hers.

He was suddenly keenly aware that his lips were pressed against her neck, that he would have to break away and turn his face from her. Shame coursed through him, shame and lust and reluctance.

But he did it. He stepped away from the wall, untangling his hand from her hair. In a moment her feet were safely on the floor, his hands were safely at his side, and she was a safe three feet away from him.

Looking at her was painful. Her lips were red and swollen, her hair wilder than usual, her eyes wide and confused. Barely visible was the red mark left just under her jaw. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, but now-  _ now _ \- his self-control reasserted itself.

He could do nothing but look at her helplessly. There she was, his Hermione in all her glory. She could have just come from sparring with him- she was breathing hard, the same intense light was in her eyes, but no. She was standing inside his office, looking up at him with growing horror.

"Severus-" her voice shook.

"Don't," he said harshly. "Don't."

The thoughts were all jumbled in his mind, weaving through and around each other, running in circles and crashing against one another in a hopeless mess.

_ I kissed Hermione Granger. _

_ She kissed me back. _

_ She's my student. _

_ She's my best friend. _

_ She's a fifth year. _

_ She's eighteen. _

_ I'm in love with her. _

_ She kissed me back. _

_ She's beautiful. _

_ She's off-limits. _

_ She kissed me back. _

_ She's not for kissing. _

_ She's too young. _

_ I'm too old. _

_ She kissed me back. _

_ I held her against a wall. _

_ She kissed me back. _

_ I left a mark on her neck. _

_ SHE KISSED ME BACK. _

Hermione was worried, her brow was furrowed and she moved tentatively toward him. "Severus," she pleaded. It appeared she couldn't say anything either- just move toward him saying his name.

The room was warm, hot, closing in on him. He saw no escape, he saw no recourse. The only thing he could do- the only option- was to wrench open the door, and wait for her to leave.

* * *

Hermione expected the tears to hit her as soon as she was in the corridor. A god smiled down at her- they waited until she was in her private room, the one where she slept every other of her days. Wearily she turned back time, letting it flow around her and over her.

Sleep did not come. She did not expect it to, she did not want it to.

Severus had kissed her.

Never had Hermione felt such a yearning, such a primal urge to possess another human being. All the tiny flickers under her ribcage or deep in her belly had become full flames, roaring at her sensibilities and driving her to him.

As soon as she had walked into his office, she had known that  _ something _ would come to a head. She could avoid him no longer, she could not put off the confrontation. By putting off, by prolonging the anticipation, she had let it grow stronger and hotter, she had raised the tension.

Seeing him, being with him, alone with him, after so long had been dizzying. Hearing his voice had stirred the tiny flickers- it had been dark and angry and dangerous. She could forget so easily how dangerous he was- both when she hadn't really seen him for weeks and when she was with him every day. But no- when Severus Snape had looked at her with anger creasing his face and smoothing his voice- she had trembled.

What had possessed her to put her hand on his to stop him from opening the door, she did not know. It had been instinct, desire, a desperate wish to touch him. Her hand had been far smaller than his- his hands dwarfed hers. His fingers were longer, the backs of his hands broad and scarred. The skin had been soft, worn.

Hermione studied her hand- the fingers were a bit short, the skin too pale. There were scars on her hands as well - she flexed them. She felt slightly dazed, like her head was floating somewhere and only anchored to the earth by the heavyweight of her bruised lips. Slowly she stripped to her underwear and crawled into the single bed. The sheets were cool against her flushed skin. She gathered them and her quilt around herself.

Nothing felt like her own- not her hands or her skin or her thoughts.

She could hardly remember the words they had exchanged. All she remembered was the relief, the glorious revelation that he did not love Lily Evans, that he had not given his life to the war for the love of a martyr.

What she did remember was the feeling of strong, slender fingers on the side of her face, insistent, demanding. His hands were dry, gentle. She had given up- she would hide her feelings no longer, she could not deny herself. She attributed this decision to weariness- she was  _ tired.  _ Tired of hiding her feelings for Severus, tired of holding herself in check, tired of wrapping herself in layers of deception and calm and the not-Hermione who  _ was _ Hermione because that version of herself was all that anyone ever saw. Except for Severus.

The initial kiss had sent a thrill through her. She responded wholeheartedly, instinctively. There was no hesitation- the time it had taken to process that it was  _ Severus  _ and he was  _ kissing _ her was infinitesimal. The feeling of his arm and shoulder under her hands- muscle moving under his skin, the warmth of his body pressed to hers- had been heady.

His nose had gotten in the way- the first brush of his lips against hers had seemed ephemeral, simply an inkling of what would come. He had pulled away- and she had pulled him right back.

_ Should I have let him pull away then? Did he want to end it? Had he- No. He kissed back. _

The height difference had been a struggle- he was more than a head taller than her. She had wound her fingers in his hair, risen on the balls of her feet, tilted her head as far up as it would go- she could still feel the slight strain in her neck, one of only two pieces of evidence that the kiss had even happened.

The other- the angry red mark on her neck. She could still feel the rasp of his stubble on the tender skin. The shift from simply standing against each other to being lifted into the air and being trapped by two hard surfaces was hard to recall. There were hard stones against her back and a hard body against her front, hard muscles under her hands and soft hair under her fingers. There had been a different hardness against the crease of her thighs as well- the kind that made her feel embarrassingly unexperienced and young. Severus had found her arousing- the sensation was as heady as it was a bit frightening. She had noticed the darkness of his eyes when he looked at her before- now she knew that when that shadow crossed his face it was because he was looking at her in the way a man looked at a woman and there was a difference that was as subtle as it was now obvious.

The sensation of hardness and softness and cold wall and hard man had been overwhelming.  _ Severus  _ had been pressing her to a wall. The mentor and friend had not been present, rather the man. He had taken her tongue into his mouth and sucked at the skin of her neck until it throbbed.

It had not been perfect. It had been hot, messy, his nose had bumped against her face, her back hurt from the wall and her neck from the arch up to kiss him. But his lips had been terribly soft, his hands had been gentle, even if he had kissed her hard. He had lifted her effortlessly- remembrance sent another shiver through her.

The feelings had been building up inside of her, pressing at the boundaries of her skin and pulsing through her bones. It had spilled out of her mouth in a single word, a plea, a cry for the something Hermione had not quite been able to verbalize. A single word.  _ Severus.  _ She hadn't said it, even, no, it had been a whisper that had tripped off her tongue and into the frigid air of the dungeons, a secret sigh so sacrosanct that even breathing it had broken the sacredness of the silence.

At the sound of his name, Severus had torn his lips from her neck and stepped away, horrified.

The awareness of the tears on her cheeks came with a suddenness that shook Hermione farther. She didn't bother to wipe them away, knowing that they would be followed by more. Severus- her lovely broken bastard- had  _ stared  _ at her, warring with himself.

Severus was not one to blatantly display emotion on his features. He stayed blank, he was stoic, he kept his thoughts and feelings private because sharing them with  _ anyone _ felt like he was giving them a part of himself (and all it took was a part before they had complete control over you) and Hermione  _ knew _ this.

When he had looked at her, standing only feet away with his own lips red from kissing hers, she had seen his struggle all too plainly on his features, she had seen it in the desolate line of his mouth, from the absolute horror in his eyes.

Hermione could not fool herself into thinking he had not wanted her. He had wanted her, he had kissed her, he had cradled her head and rocked his hips into hers. She knew what the look on his face had meant.

She knew how much honor Severus held, to what standards he held himself. She knew that he was not a man who trusted others, that he was not a man who felt emotion lightly. He was loyal, he was stubborn, he was damaged. He snapped all the time, he was a miserable bastard because he lived a miserable life. He had no hope, and yet- he had kissed her. That was hardly the action of a man with no hope.

She had seen the desperate clash behind his dark eyes, the ones screaming that he had done the complete taboo  _ (he had kissed a student) _ and that he wanted to do it again.

The only recourse she had found- still dazed herself- was to call to him, to try to bring him back to himself. Or, at least, the self he had just shown her. It hadn't worked. He had wrenched open the door, and she had fled.

Oh, again she had opened Pandora's Box and something had flown out that was wonderful and terrible.

_ Point Eight: Find out if he's ever had someone. _

She knew now- he had kissed her with carnal knowledge, and although she ached to know who and when all she could think about was her complete lack of any skill in that area whatsoever. He hadn't minded, though.

She wondered if she had not said his name, if she had kept the hallowed silence, how far it would have gone. If he would have unbuttoned her blouse. If she would have ran her hands over his chest. If he would have suckled at her breasts as he had done at her neck. The cloying syrup of arousal had sunk deep into her belly from the moment her hand had touched his on the doorknob, and she was going half-mad as her mind wandered.

What did the future hold for them? Would he avoid her? Should she avoid him? How would they work together? Could she even go near him again without staring at his mouth- gods, how was she going to stand Potions?

There were no answers for her. Time would have to tell, and he was a closemouthed bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 21!
> 
> I know everyone was waiting for this! Unfortunately, our two love birds will take a while to circle around each other. But what's better than a slow burn!
> 
> Thank you everyone for the kind words - I have a few simple cloth masks now, and my mother made some double lined ones that she is sending me. I'm not yet sick (fingers crossed) and I'm taking as many precautions as I can. 
> 
> Until next week! Loving the comments and kudos!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe. Many thanks to my beta, Sorasradust!
> 
> You may have noticed the rating has changed - this story gets very explicit after 50 chapters or so, so I went ahead and changed the rating now.

_**Chapter 22** _

The noise of the Great Hall was drilling deep into Severus' head. Somehow he had dragged himself out of his chair and limped into a shower. The hangover still had not gone away, and he had decided to deny himself a hangover potion.

It was his punishment, his penance, his twisted determination to reward himself for what he had done. He had pushed Hermione Granger away from him after slanting his mouth over hers, he had pushed away the only good thing in his life after she had melted into him and sighed his name.

Getting roaring drunk had not banished the memory from his brain. No, it was still there, darting in at inappropriate moments to turn his head with thick curls or soft skin or hungry lips. Even now, he cautiously sipped coffee, all he could think about was how the smell of coffee seemed to linger around Hermione sometimes.

_ Where are the compartmentalization skills you are so proud of?  _ he asked himself bitterly. He knew the answer, even if he didn't want to say it to himself; the value of the memory of the kiss was far higher than his state of mind.

The trickle of students entering the Great Hall grew. One clump came in, and the noise increased again as they greeted all their friends. It was a Sunday, so half the seats in the Great Hall were empty. He was grateful for that at least.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His stomach was rolling nervously.

Then he heard it.

It wasn't her voice, rather, it was the loud bray of the Weasley boy, saying something outrageously loud. There was a murmur that was the Boy-Who-Lived. His eyes shot open.

There she was, walking into the Great Hall as she did every day. Today she had chosen- defiantly, perhaps- to wrestle her hair into a braid. Her neck was visible- but not his mark on her. Instead of feeling relief, anger coursed through his gut. His mark should have been on her skin, declaring his claiming of her to all who saw. His eyes snapped from where his mark should have been to her eyes, which were staring guiltily at him.

She looked so apologetic, so young, so round-faced. He knew it was her Glamour, but shame and guilt and disgust curdled his appetite farther. She was mouthing something to him- "I-"

And then a Hufflepuff boy (the prim and prissy one) was tapping her arm and she was turning around, startled.

Severus looked back down at his plate, full of slowly congealing eggs. He shoved himself away from the table, leaving the High Table and ignoring Minerva's squawk.

* * *

It had been a bit of a foolish decision, really, to choose to go to breakfast in the Great Hall on the first turn around. But that was normally what Hermione did on Sundays, and the craving for routine had been especially pronounced when she woke that morning.

In the light of the day, the mark on her neck was bright red and her lips almost garishly dark. She took a great deal of care with her Glamours, making herself look as normal as possible. Looking at her own face in the mirror was always strange after the magic was in place- it was like looking back in time, to when she had been sixteen and young.

As soon as she had looked at Severus in the Great Hall, he had left. The line of his shoulders was horribly tense as he went, and she ached to release that tension for him. She remembered his hands gently rubbing salve into her skin. Thoughts- fantasies, really- of doing the same to him, of rubbing his hard shoulders, of easing the knots.

But there were more pressing problems than Severus. There was an Order meeting scheduled for that night, to go over the information Hagrid had returned with, and planning to do for that. Then she also had to convince Hagrid to stick to Professor Grubbly-Plank's original lesson plans, or risk the wrath of Umbridge. And then, later, at the Order meeting, Hagrid would find out that she was a member.

To be honest, that was the part Hermione was looking forward to the least.

Since she had arrived in Hogwarts, she had made few friends. As soon as Harry and Ron had introduced her to the lumbering man, he had been kind to her. When Harry and Ron had turned away in her third year, she had been able to turn to Severus. But she also had turned to Hagrid. She worked tirelessly to try to save Buckbeak, and he had provided her with gentle companionship. She would always be grateful to him.

There was the option of using her position as a member of the Inner Circle to ask Hagrid to stick to the original lesson plans as a safety measure, to ensure that he would keep his position at Hogwarts. Normally she would have talked out options and how to convince Dumbledore with Severus, but now- now that wasn't an option.

Rather than make the trip down to Hagrid's cabin in vain, Hermione spent the day indoors. She holed herself up in her room and wrote out extremely detailed reports all day long, struggling to ignore the heaviness of her lips and the sorrow in her heart.

The kiss seemed surreal. How could it have happened less than twenty-four hours ago?  _ Severus  _ had touched his lips to hers, had held her, and sucked at her pulse. Why?

Among all the thoughts wondering why he had done what he had done were the questions concerning the future. Or at least, their future. His reaction in the Great Hall at breakfast had seemed clear enough- he regretted what had happened. Hermione didn't bother with lunch or dinner. It would hurt to see him again.

Why would he have kissed her? He had seemed passionate enough, and the moments preceding the kiss had been achingly tense.

_ He was upset that I had been avoiding him _ , Hermione thought sadly.  _ He wanted me to come back to him, to not run from his past. When he found out that I was upset because his past included another girl- a perfect woman- he was... well, whatever he was, he was happy enough to kiss me. _

_ Well, if he didn't want me to avoid him, I won't. I'll see him tomorrow. I'll need to report after the Order meeting anyway. _

Decision made, Hermione firmly turned her mind to her work.

* * *

The look on Hagrid's face made Hermione's heart drop. When he had first seen her sitting at the Order meeting, he had been pleased, if confused. He had greeted her happily, asking what she was doing there.

"Hermione is a member of both the Inner and Outer Circles," said Dumbledore gravely. "She joined our ranks officially in the time you were gone, Hagrid."

She had sought him out after the meeting had concluded.

"I"m protecting Harry," was the first thing she said. "I'm- I'm doing everything I can to make sure he's safe."

Hagrid had heaved a great sigh. "Dumbledore asks a lotta us, Hermione. I unnerstand why yeh did wha' you did."

She tentatively rested a hand on Hagrid's jacket. "And you know that you can't tell Ron and Harry, right?"

"Yeah. Jus stop me if I do sommat that'd give yeh away, alrigh'?" The corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes crinkled. "Yeh're a good girl, Hermione. Don' le' anyone tell yeh diff'ren'."

So now she was safe in the knowledge that Hagrid would not give her away on purpose, and that he still trusted her. He had even invited her for a cup of tea in his cabin, without the boys.

Now the only problem to tackle was Snape.

It was late when she returned from the Order meeting, too late to go see him. A traitorous voice whispered to her that it had never been too late to go see him before, that she knew that Severus suffered from insomnia and would usually stay awake until early in the morning.

Standing in her little secret room, Hermione dithered for a moment longer before heaving a sigh. She began to re-braid her hair- she would go to the practice room, and exercise. Hopefully, she would get tired enough to go to sleep.

* * *

His muscles burned. Sweat was dripping down his back, falling into his eyes, stinging them with salt. All his old wounds were beginning to protest in soft old voices, warning him that if he continued to punish himself like this they would roar back into full, painful life.

He ignored them, and continued to move.

It was true, he was punishing himself. If it was unhealthy, it was safer than drink. For even if his body was exhausted, he could still summon the necessary mental reserves to shield his mind. It had been stupid to drink the night before. He could have been called, he could have been forced to sink to his knees in front of the Dark Lord and have his mind examined with no warning. The Dark Lord had done it before and he had always managed to protect the things he needed to.

But how could he have kept Hermione from the forefront of his brain if his mind kept reminding him of the softness of her curls and the harshness of her hipbones pressed against his stomach and the insistent press of her mouth?

He was punishing himself for that too.

So intent was he on his exercise, of making the burn of muscle and the sting of sweat blot out the heat and pain of Hermione, that at first, he did not register the opening of the door.

He did register the indrawn breath, the solid steps that halted suddenly, the scent of rosewater face cream and books that drifted toward him.

_ Hermione. _

She was standing in the doorway of their practice room, her small frame outlined in the light of the hallway. He had kept the room half-dark, so that his reflection in the mirrors wouldn't be anything more than a shadowy form. Her hair was in an unruly braid and the pants she was wearing fit closely on her hips. The marks that had been hidden by Glamours before were now visible, dark stains that declared his shameful claim on her.

"Close the door," he managed to croak. "Someone-"

"Might see," she murmured. "Uh- yeah, sorry." She swung the door shut. The click was sharp in the silence, a sharp noise amid the panting breaths of Severus and the slow exhales of Hermione.

The air between them thickened, condensed into something more than just empty space. It gained a form, a presence that was not so much malevolent as it was fearful. It pressed against his chest, adding its weight to that already burdening him.

It was Hermione who broke the quiet. Her words sliced through the swelling, shatteringly soft.

"I should go," she whispered. "I'll- I'll let you practice."

The thought of seeing her back turn on him made his throat close and his belly tighten. "No," he spat out. "No."

She might have been giving him her typical quizzical look, but in the darkness, he couldn't quite make it out. He did know that tilt of her head though, and the way her voice sounded when she said, "Pardon?"

Reasons and words were jumbled in his head, but he managed to string enough together to speak. "I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Severus-" she tried to interrupt.

"No," he said harshly, still trying to catch his breath. "But it happened. Now we need to move past it. If you prefer leaving reports on my desk, rather than-

She moved closer to him. "Severus," she said again, pleading entering her voice. It had leaked through, not a deliberate action. If she had done it on purpose, if she had shown the barest hint of desire to toy with his emotions and his heart, he would have pushed her away again. Whether or not he would succeed was not certain, but he would have tried. But it was not in Hermione's nature.

She was close enough that his breathing quickened again, having slowed at the respite from exercise. "Severus," she said again. "We-" She too was struggling for words.

"We are at war," he responded tiredly. "Everything about this is wrong. In name, at least, we are on two opposite sides of a war. Beyond that, I'm your  _ teacher _ and you are my student." The warm light coming dimmed from some of the wall scones made her face a rippling shadow with two bright eyes and the dash of a dark mouth against pale skin.

"But-" her voice sounded a bit wild. "I l-"

"Don't say it!" he roared. "Don't say anything!" He didn't know what she had been about to say; he suspected but discounted it. "Nothing about what happened that night was right."

He could recognize the mulish set of her mouth and chin because he had seen it so many times in his own sitting room. "I would beg to differ." She would refuse to give up, she would press on mercilessly until he gave in.

He had only one choice. Only one weapon. It had worked before.

In an instant he was bearing down on her, making her back up as he moved forward. Soon the wall was at her back. "Do you understand how dangerous this is for me?" he hissed.  _ It doesn't matter, Hermione, my life doesn't matter. You matter more.  _ "What would happen to me if the Dark Lord would happen to see a snippet of affection for a Mu-ggleborn in my mind?"  _ I can't do it to you, I can't lose you. I can't. I couldn't bear it. _

The change in her face was immediate. The stubbornness melted away, worry flooding her features. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't-"

"You are still a girl," he said, moving away. "It is understandable."

"Then-" she was dazed, confused, and it showed on her face. "Should we- not meet?"

His throat tightened. He bought time by bending and gathering his robes. "As little as a possible," he said in clipped tones. "Leave reports on my desk. Of course, if there is anything immediately important come to me right away."

He left her in the dark of the practice room. There might have been something glimmering on her cheek, but he kept his eyes forward as he swept out of the room.

His own disgust in himself was running high. He had almost called her a word he had sworn many times over never to say again. It had not been so long ago that he had deemed the world an unfriendly and uncaring place, that he had looked at the faces he saw day in and day out and realized dryly that no one cared. And now he had used that one precious thing- Hermione and her heart large enough to worry for a spy, to care about him- to push her away.

There was nothing he could do now. The job was done, the contract sealed. She would stay away from him, out of caring, and she would refuse to give in to herself because if there was anything that could keep Hermione from what she wanted, it was a greater good.

He would not turn to drink that night. He bitterly craved the sting of alcohol, the sluggish heavy feeling that would take the place of his mind, the lassitude and lack of caring that came with the sharp tastes. But no- the night was still young and he still might be called by the Dark Lord.

* * *

Life was lonely with her snarky Potions Master. Even before, when she had foolishly avoided him, she had known that he had her back. That she need only call his name or touch her watch with her wand and he would be there in an instant. Even just to talk- that was why she had gone to him about Hagrid in the first place.

Now...

She wasn't sure.

Her days weren't too different, exactly. She attended all her classes accompanied by Harry and Ron, or for the more advanced ones, Padma Patil and a few other Ravenclaws. She poured effort into her schoolwork, into her work for the Order, into her reports for Severus. She spent time with the boys, with Ginny, with Luna. She planned lessons for the D.A., and watched as Harry taught them.

There were never long stretches of free time where she could sit and think- she avoided those at all costs. As November emptied itself in a series of howling storms, Hermione scoured the library and the Restricted Section for the most complicated books she could find, so she would be unable to think of anything but complicated spells and rituals in the time she had for herself.

In the first few weeks she wrote several long letters to Viktor and Charlotte apiece; but as the weather grew worse her writing slowed, out of concern for the owls. Viktor was much happier than he had been the year before, playing Quidditch and travelling with the team, rather than being towed around Durmstrang like a trophy. Charlotte was finishing her last year at Beauxbatons, and writing long, exasperated letters about coursework and teachers and boys who wished to distract her. Neither included anything of interest to the Order. Hermione continued with her penfriendships anyway, firmly convinced that even if they didn't pay off, it didn't matter. They were actually friends, and she wasn't using them- it was just occasionally they wrote interesting things in their letters about French or Bulgarian sympathies.

The loneliness gnawed at her. It was a beast that lurked around corners, cast shadows on her walls, attacked suddenly and nibbled at her bones. It ached, physically ached, the sadness and fear and regret.

How could she have been so stupid?

She had been so caught up with what it had meant for them- the two of them- that she had completely forgotten that there was a world much larger than Hermione and Severus. A world of Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix and Voldemort and Harry Potter. Her life was not her own. Severus himself did not decide his own fate. They were pawns in a game between others and it had been their own choice to step onto the chessboard.

She hadn't even considered what would happen if the Dark Lord saw her face in Severus' mind.

Obviously Severus had, though. Even as she berated herself for the gut-wrenching potential consequences of her- of the their- actions, there was still the heady thought that maybe- just maybe- there was a reason it would be so hard for him to hide the memory from the Dark Lord.

Severus had taught her that the memories it was most difficult for an Occlumens to hide were those with extremely strong emotions attached. That was why calm had to be learned, why hot heads had a very difficult time with the mind arts.

There was strong emotion behind the kiss. For her, definitely. And for him...

He had kissed her. No matter what she thought there was no way around it. They had been inches apart and he had been the one to lower his mouth to hers. In that instant, at least, he had desired her. Wanted her.

It was a hard thing to remember, day by day at Hogwarts.

In the mornings she would see him in the Great Hall. At least, she would see him every other day. A house-elf would bring her breakfast on the days she slept in her little room. Then Potions. He would be imposing and inscrutable, his black robes buttoned to the neck. Seeing him in the dim light of the dungeons Hermione could almost forget that once upon a time Severus Snape in a white button-down and black trousers had been a familiar sight. That she knew the line of his neck intimately, that she had heard that silky drawl wrap around her name in a hundred different tones- exasperation, exhaustion, anger, sarcasm, determination, worry, lust.

She did as he bid. Thrice a week she would ask the house-elf who delivered her meals to leave a carefully written report on Severus' desk. In return, she found a scroll of parchment on her pillow with spiky handwriting detailing the movements of the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's plans, and Dumbledore's orders.

As winter gradually won out over autumn and the days grew shorter, Hermione's temper grew shorter as well. She was unable to tolerate Harry and Ron for long periods of time- she even found herself snapping at Luna for all that she had firmly promised herself that she would be as kind as she needed to be.

Stress began to build intolerably high. It was part of Hermione's personality to become overly stressed and harried, to worry herself sick and forget meals holed up in the Library. It worsened as the Winter Break approached. Her schoolwork was piling up as teachers gave study materials for the O.W.L.s, the Order was increasing patrols in the Ministry due to increased Death Eater activity, which meant that she was distilling Severus' information and planning Order schedules. Rita Skeeter seemed determined to bog her down with useless information to slog through, but Hermione was determined not to give in to the reporter.

Normally, when the work and worry were pressing down on her, Hermione would have gone to Severus. He would have snorted, made her a cup of tea, and talked books with her until she was relaxed. Or if it was really bad, he would have goaded her into fighting with him just to get the excess energy out. Then she would sleep soundly and wake up the next morning with sore muscles and more energy.

Sleep was also becoming something of a problem. Only something- the bad dreams meant that sleep didn't exactly happen, but then again, less sleep meant more time to work.

She wondered how he was faring.

Severus looked harsher. His permanent scowl was etched deeper into his face, his hands were always moving in irritated motions. The food on his plate got mushed around. The voluminous robes meant she couldn't tell if he was getting thinner. Sometimes she could recognize a look of pinched pain on his face, a look that usually accompanied a scroll on her pillow.

She took to waiting, disguised, near the secret entrance he had showed her the night he had taken her to meet their spy network. If she wasn't sleeping anyway, at least she could have some calm knowing he hadn't left. Of course, that meant that on the nights he did leave, she refused to move until her bum was molded flat from the cold flagstones and her fingers felt frozen solid.

In her spare time Hermione practiced her wandless magic. Learning to use just small amounts of power was difficult- there had been a week where she had been forced to borrow chewed up quills from Ron because she had accidentally incinerated all of hers. Now it was shaky but reliable, and she could do minor feats of magic with only her mind. She told herself that she practiced so much because it was her nature to work hard at magic until she mastered it. It had absolutely nothing to do with the tugging sensation at her magic and the memory of Severus standing behind her and  _ in _ her mind and holding her magic and his, together.

She missed him dreadfully.

* * *

Every day Severus was thankful for his Occlumency skills. His control had always been perfect. Everything of his belonged to someone else- his body belonged to his masters, his will to the fight, even his heart had belonged first to Lily and now to Hermione. He was always someone's- except for his mind. His mind was his own.

So he was able to tuck the thoughts of Hermione behind walls. He pulled out strands of memory, leaving gaping holes with ragged edges in his consciousness. And then he weakened, dipping his wand into the eerie blue-white glowing memories and finding the ones of Hermione. Slowly he placed them back in his mind.

They needed to be safe- he built walls around them, fortresses. He sunk them deep into the recesses of his mind, he forced them to fade until he only knew that he had kissed Hermione and he needed to protect that memory with all he had.

Both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore knew that Severus was a Master Occlumens- it was idiocy to send a double agent whom everyone knew was a double agent behind enemy lines when the enemy was a mind reader. The Dark Lord would have never let Severus hear half the things he heard if he was not completely sure of the strength of Severus' mind. It had been the Dark Lord himself who had taught Severus what he knew of the mind arts. He had not wanted to send a valuable Death Eater with a mind full of important information helpless into the presence of a man known for his Legilimency skills.

The stakes had been high. There was nothing about the first nineteen years of Severus' life that the Dark Lord did not know. But he had learned- it was long and hard but he had learned how to shield his mind, how to keep what was sacred and precious to him hidden from the prying eyes of the Dark Lord.

But the trick was to hide what he wanted hidden without broadcasting that he was concealing something from his masters. Dumbledore rarely performed Occlumency on him anymore- but the Dark Lord was a different story. He routinely expected Severus to bare his mind, to lay it open and willing for the Dark Lord to peruse. Severus had tried to hide things before, especially in the early days. He was discouraged from doing so immediately.

The Dark Lord thought that Severus' spirit had been cowed, but it had not. He had simply forced himself to find other ways to hide things.

And so the fortresses and walls that hid Hermione from the eyes of the Dark Lord were hidden in the midst of ordinary things. It was dangerous, making the protections on them so strong. The stronger his defenses were, the more likely they were to draw the Dark Lord's attention.

He would fight to the death to keep her from the Dark Lord. It did not matter- even if the Dark Lord discovered the walls, he would not be able to push past them without destroying Severus' mind first.

How strange it was now, how eagerly history repeated itself. He would do anything to save a Muggleborn girl who would fight to defend Potter to her last breath. He didn't even know if she cared for him half as much as he cared for her.

* * *

The winding staircase taking her to Dumbledore's office was making Hermione feel sick. Her head wasn't feeling right either- perhaps it was the nausea from the rotating stairs or maybe because she had skipped dinner. Either way, something was wrong.

When the stairs deposited her on the landing, Hermione stood still, clutching the railing. Swimming. That was the word she had been searching for. Her head was swimming.

"Enter, my dear," Dumbledore's voice called. "Come right in."

She took a breath and walked into the office, dropping her Glamour as she did so. The moment that drain on her magic stopped, she felt better. Now, at least, dirtying the floor and her shoes no longer seemed like an option.

"Headmaster," she said formally, taking a seat as he gestured. The office was as strange as it normally was. Fawkes was preening on his stand, the silver instruments puffed softly, and the Headmaster was reading reports at his desk with his shiny silver spectacles perched on his crooked nose.

Dumbledore gave her a warm smile. "You know that you can call me Albus, my dear girl. You are, after all, of age."

A ripple of fear trickled down her spine.  _ Does he know about Severus and me? _ "Very well then, Albus." She tried for a smile. "What was this about?"

"Just checking up with you for our midyear report before the Winter holidays," Dumbledore said nonchalantly. "I know that usually Severus takes your report, but when I asked he told me quite sharply that you're a big girl now." He chuckled. Hermione's stomach dropped.

He knows how much I absolutely hate doing this, Hermione thought angrily. She had no right to be angry- Severus had told her before that he would take care of reporting on Harry's actions to Dumbledore. She had thought that perhaps it was because he had seen the dread on her face the first time it was brought up.

"What do you want to know?" Hermione asked, willing her mouth to form the words.

"What have his movements been like this term?" asked Dumbledore. "What is he doing? How are his classes going? And the little group he started?"

"Harry is finding this year his most difficult yet," started Hermione. "Um- He hates Professor Umbridge. He is chafing at the restrictions on his Quidditch playing. He is starting to feel trapped at Hogwarts."

A small noise interrupted her. "Hmm. That won't do. He must feel like he owes something to the students here, like Hogwarts is his home."

"He does!" Hermione blurted suddenly. "Especially because of Dumbledore's Army. He's stepping up, taking control of the classes. It's the only thing- I don't want to say it's the only thing keeping him here, but it is the only thing that is keeping Harry going."

The smile that appeared on the Headmaster's face didn't fit quite right with Hermione. "Excellent. Severus tells me that I have you to thank for that delightfully complex idea- and I must admit, I was surprised that I had not thought of it first."

She wanted to squirm in her seat. She wasn't sure if she should thank him- was it a thing to be proud of, a thing to be complimented on, misleading and tricking people? Instead, she remained silent.

That appeared to discomfit Dumbledore. "Well. Continue."

"He's still having the dreams," Hermione said after a moment. "A corridor and a door. He doesn't know what they are."

Dumbledore rubbed at his beard. "Then we will have to see about teaching Harry Occlumency. Perhaps Severus could start lessons at the beginning of the next term?"

"That wouldn't be wise," said Hermione. "He detests Severus. Severus hates him. It would never work. He would listen to you, though."

The kindness in Dumbledore's eyes melted away. "There are greater things at work here, Hermione. It would be dangerous to have Harry and me in the same room for too long."

That sent her senses into high alert. "Why?" She met his eyes fearlessly.

The Headmaster sighed. "It's not yet time for you to know." That prickled at her. When would it be time?

"Then let me teach him," Hermione suggested. "And let me teach him other things, while I'm at it. Lessons on how to fight. Hand to hand combat, knives-"

"In short, everything Severus taught you?" A glimmer of amusement was back, twinkling behind the Headmaster's glasses. "No."

"Why?" Hermione protested. She stood, wavering. "Headmaster- Albus- he needs to be able to protect himself! After last year- after the graveyard- he's serious about it, he would learn! What if-" Tears were threatening.

Dumbledore was out from behind his desk in a moment, putting a frail arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Why don't you come into my rooms, my dear?" he said, grandfatherly worry in his voice. "We'll have some hot chocolate."

Sure enough, soon Hermione was curled up on a couch with a mug of steaming hot chocolate in her palms. Dumbledore also had a mug, and was sitting cross-legged on the sofa.

He started the conversation. "I do want you to know that Harry Potter is my utmost priority," Albus began. His voice was strong, sincere. There was no way that Hermione could doubt him. "Harry- he is more than just the Boy-Who-Lived to me. I am close to him. I worry about him as I would worry about my own child."

Bitterness rose in her. "But you don't want me to teach him how to protect himself?"

"No," Dumbledore said, still with that tone of complete honesty. "Hermione, there will come a time when Harry will need to be vulnerable. When he will need to look at death not with fear, as you and Severus do, but as if it was only the next great adventure. Harry needs to be selfless."

Her head was hurting more. She put down the hot chocolate and cradled her head in her hands. "Headmaster, you are telling me all these things and none of it makes any sense."

"I need you to trust me," Dumbledore said urgently. "Hermione Granger- do you trust me?"

_ No. I'm not sure who I can trust anymore. _

"I think so," Hermione admitted finally. "I- some people here have grown up with legends about you, and I haven't. All I have to go off of is my own interactions with you."

She had meant it as an excuse- why she didn't fully believe in him- but Dumbledore took it as an affirmation.

"And I trust your judgment as much as Severus does, my dear," he said jovially. "Trust me when I say that I will sacrifice anything to win this war, and Harry is the most important element of it right now."

_ Is he the king or the queen, though? Is he the most important player, or is he what needs to be guarded? Can he be sacrificed too? _

* * *

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill. He had just stumbled back into the Common Room, quite a dazed expression on his face. She narrowed her eyes. His lips- his lips were red. And his face seemed a bit damp.

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug.

"What's up?" said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. He had been sprawled on the floor, doing his Transfiguration homework. "What's happened?"

He didn't say anything. Hermione wasn't quite sure if it was his still-dazed look or if it was a choice. Either way, she took matters out of his hands.

"Is it Cho?" she asked in a businesslike way. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"  _ They kissed, didn't they. Fuck. If Dumbledore finds out he's going to kill me. _

She had left them in the Room of Requirement only because she had to finish her letter to Viktor, reasoning that on her turn back she would prevent anything from happening.  _ That's means something's happened. Well, Dumbledore can't get too pissed if something more important was going on. _

Numbly surprised, Harry nodded. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye.  _ Prat. Not the time to laugh, Ronald. _

"So - er - what did she want?" he asked in a mock casual voice. Hermione swung her foot to kick him, but he was just too far away.

"She -" Harry began, rather hoarsely; he cleared his throat and tried again. "She - er -"

"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione briskly.  _ Obviously. Damn it. _

Ron sat up so fast he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely, he stared avidly at Harry.

"Well?" he demanded.  _ Oh dear. I hope Ronald's inferiority complex doesn't make things difficult. _

Harry looked from Ron's expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity to Hermione's slight frown, and nodded.

"HA!" Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second-years over beside the window jump. A reluctant grin spread over Harry's face as he watched Ron rolling around on the hearthrug.

Hermione gave Ron a look of deep disgust and returned to her letter.  _ You are welcome to come to Headquarters anytime, Viktor. Just let me know. I'll have to get clearance of course but- _

Ron's voice broke her concentration. "Well?" Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. "How was it?" She didn't want to know what Harry's kiss was like. A wave of bitterness moved through her.  _ He gets to kiss the girl he isn't allowed to have. Why can't I have Severus? _

Harry considered for a moment. "Wet," he said truthfully.

Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell. Hermione was confused too.  _ Wet? _

"Because she was crying," Harry continued heavily.  _ Crying? Oh dear. _

"Oh," said Ron, his smile fading slightly. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," said Harry, who hadn't considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. "Maybe I am."

"Of course you're not," said Hermione absently, still scribbling away at her letter.  _ How to spin this, how to spin this... _

"How do you know?" said Ron very sharply.  _ Oh? Jealous? Uh oh. I'll need to nip that one in the bud. _

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," said Hermione vaguely. "She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place. She misses Cedric. And her parents are thinking about moving back to China."

"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," said Ron, grinning.

"Ron," said Hermione in a dignified voice, dipping the point of her quill into her inkpot, "you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Ron indignantly. "What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?"

"Yeah," said Harry, slightly desperately, "who does?"

Hermione looked at the pair of them with an almost pitying expression on her face.  _ I could have cried when Severus was kissing me, the emotion was so intense. _

"Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" she asked.

"No," said Harry and Ron together.  _ Of course not. _

Hermione sighed and laid down her quill. "Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dumping her. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best, or if she has another chance with Cedric or if she'd be better off than Harry. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking that maybe she shouldn't be kissing Harry at all, with all she's been saying that she still loves Cedric and she'll wait for him and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry, and if it'll be getting back to Cedric. And she probably can't work out what her feelings towards Harry are, anyway, because she's been telling some people she wants the Boy-Who-Lived and others that she's still in love with Cedric. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."

A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of her speech, then Ron said, "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode."

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione nastily picking up her quill again.

"She was the one who started it," said Harry. "I wouldn't've - she just sort of came at me - and next thing she's crying all over me - I didn't know what to do —"

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron, looking alarmed at the very thought.

"You just had to be nice to her," said Hermione, looking up anxiously. "You were, weren't you?"

"Well," said Harry, an unpleasant shade of red creeping up his face, "I sort of - patted her on the back a bit."

Hermione felt like rolling her eyes.  _ Harry. What am I going to do with you? You get one illegal kiss past me and you pat her back?  _ "Well, I suppose it could have been worse," she said. "Are you going to see her again?"  _ I can't let another one slip through my net. Goddamnit. _

"I'll have to, won't I?" said Harry. "We've got D.A. meetings, haven't we?"  _ And I can't exactly kick her out of the D.A. Without probable cause. _

"You know what I mean," said Hermione impatiently.

When he didn't answer after a while, she sighed. He probably hadn't thought about that yet."Oh well," said Hermione distantly, buried in her letter once more, "you'll have plenty of opportunities to ask her."

"What if he doesn't want to ask her?" said Ron, who had been watching Harry with an unusually shrewd expression on his face.  _ Oh? Maybe jealous of Cho? No... I don't think so. He likes getting an eyeful of Lavender. _

"Don't be silly," said Hermione vaguely, "Harry's liked her for ages, haven't you, Harry?" Harry flushed.

"Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?" Ron asked Hermione, trying to read the bit of parchment now trailing on the floor. Hermione hitched it up out of sight.  _ Nope. You don't get to see what I'm writing. Viktor suspects I'm a bit older than I look and I'm writing like I am. _

"Viktor," she said noncommittally.

"Krum?" There was more than a little outrage in his voice.

"How many other Viktors do we know?"

Ron said nothing, but looked disgruntled. They sat in silence for another twenty minutes, Ron finishing his Transfiguration essay with many snorts of impatience and crossings-out, Hermione writing steadily to the very end of the parchment, rolling it up carefully and sealing it, and Harry staring into the fire, wishing more than anything that Sirius's head would appear there and give him some advice about girls. But the fire merely crackled lower and lower, until the red-hot embers crumbled into ash and, looking around, Harry saw that they were, yet again, the last ones in the common room.

"Well, night," said Hermione, yawning widely as she set off up the girls' staircase. She had to send the owl to Viktor and get some sleep before whatever was going to happen happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 22. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your comments and kudos! I am now the only person on my team who is able to go out into the community to take care of our clients - everyone else has been exposed. Wish me luck! I have some homemade masks and plenty of gloves, so I'm just being as careful as I can!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning everyone!
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Sorasradust! 
> 
> Good news as well for you all - I am moving to twice a week publication, on Wednesday and on Saturdays.

**_Chapter 23_ **

The first good night's sleep Hermione had slept in weeks was interrupted with the fiery searing heat of her watch burning into her skin.

She muffled a hiss of pain in her pillow then tapped it hurriedly.

_ Nagini attacked Arthur Weasley. The Dark Lord calls. My antivenin is the green bottle, nightstand. One turn only. _

Wakefulness came with sickening clarity. Nagini was a magical snake, with unheard of longevity. Severus had described more than once the way her venom prevented clotting and healing. He told her that he had a precious amount of antivenin that he had made from stolen samples of her venom.

That he was telling her to use it on Arthur Weasley meant that the worst had come to pass.

As she was leaving the girl's dorm, Minerva McGonagall was racing up the stairs in a tartan dressing gown with her spectacles lopsided on her bony nose. Her nostrils flared- she could sense Hermione. Hermione was good, but she wasn't that good yet. She quickly revealed herself.

"It's me," she said, in quiet, quick tones. "Severus let me know, he said-"

"Arthur's been attacked," Minerva said, nodding. "Potter- he's seen it all."

_ The mind connection. Damn. It's worse than Severus and I thought. _ "I'm going back in time," Hermione said, checking her watch. "Severus brewed antivenin. Where is Harry?"

The old Scottish woman's face looked terribly lined in the dim light. "He’s on his way to Headquarters shortly, with the Weasleys. Where are you going?"

Hermione thought quickly. “Back a turn, then to Headquarters to sound the alarm and St. Mungos for the antivenin.” Hermione nodded decisively and their eyes met. The urgency stilled, and then exploded again. She spelled herself invisible once more, and the Deputy Headmistress continued on her way to the dorms.

Hermione flew through the castle on silenced feet, unable to see her own form. Her breath made puffs of visible air in the cold of the dungeons, but there was no one about to notice it. In moments she arrived at Severus' door.

Never before had she been so thankful that he had not only given her a password of her own, but that she had taken the time to enter unaccompanied by him. Sneaking into his rooms so many times before stripped her of the nervousness of doing it for the first time.

The scan of her palm, her hushed whisper, and then she was through the wall and into the false chambers. A fumble for the key at her neck, three turns, and she was in Severus' real chambers for the first time in months. His teaching robes were thrown over the back of a chair. The air smelled like him and like his tea. There was a half-empty cup on his desk. The door to his bedroom was wide open.

There was no time to be hesitant. She would get the antivenin and turn back.

The rest of Severus' quarters were hardly luxurious, and his bedroom was no different. There was a large bed in the center, a chest of drawers, and a door that seemed to lead to a bathroom. There was a thick rug on the stone floor, very good quality, and all the furniture was ornately carved. But there was no excess displayed; just good quality.

Hermione immediately found the nightstand, opening the top drawer and searching through the mess, cataloguing what she saw.

A bound black book.

A quill and ink.

And a green vial. The antivenin- she hastily shoved it into her robes.

The race to beat time was on. She wove through the room quickly, then flat out ran in the hallways to find the secret entrances and exits Severus had shown her the night they had gone to see their spy network. The grounds were freezing cold that time of night; a spiral of smoke rose from Hagrid's cabin, and the dim light from his windows was the only light on the moonless and cloudy night. The snow crunched under her feet, and to her horror Hermione realized she was leaving clear footprints that showed the way to the exit.

With a muttered curse she conjured a wind to muss the snow behind her. There was nothing to do for it- she couldn't levitate. But... she could charm herself feather-light. That way her footprints would leave less of an impression on the snow, and with the fat flakes that were falling and melting in her hair, they would vanish within the hour.

Feather-light she could run faster, too. The freezing air and the sharp pinpricks of the snowflakes she was running into stung her skin. She had foolishly left her cloak. She hadn't been thinking about venturing into the snow, she had been thinking about Severus. At least it was one less thing to weigh her down.

The gate was farther away than she had thought. It was with frozen and clumsy fingers that she unlatched it and left the Hogwarts wards. She hid behind a tree and spun back one hour.

It was just as cold at two in the morning as it had been at three. It didn't matter though- she closed her eyes and spun on one foot, Apparating away.

One tight squeeze, forcing herself through space the way she normally forced herself through time. The tunnel spat her out at an alley across from Grimmauld Place. She walked purposefully toward the space between number 11 and number 13. Number 12 Grimmauld Place materialized, pushing aside the other two. She ran up the steps and pounded at the door.

A half-awake Remus opened the door, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Who's there?" He was dressed for sleep in a loose nightshirt hastily tucked into unbuttoned pants.

Hermione stepped around him and shed her Disillusionment. "It's me, Remus." She shivered, even in the blanketing warmth of the house.

The werewolf sighed. "What was your boggart when I gave you your third-year examinations?"

"Harry Potter dead on the floor," Hermione answered easily. "How did I beat you that day it was six against one in training?"

Remus smiled ruefully. "You made Nymphadora trip into Severus and then fall onto me."

She grinned. "Good. Now, we have an emergency."

A half-naked Sirius stumbled down the stairs. "Moony- is something-" His eyes widened when he saw Hermione. "What are you doing here? Is Harry-"

"Harry's fine," Hermione said, interrupting. "Arthur Weasley's going to be attacked in about five minutes- there's nothing we can do now, but I have the antivenin."

"Antivenin?" Remus asked. "Um- a snake?" He sighed and pressed at his temples.

Hermione nodded. "The Dark Lord's snake, Nagini." Her eyes flicked to Sirius' attractive (if rather scrawny) torso. "You might want to put something on, Sirius. Harry and the Weasleys are probably going to get sent here."

"How do you know?" Sirius obviously wanted to believe her, but was guarded against perking up. "Did something say something?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "I made the security protocols for Harry's safety with Severus for just about anything that could go wrong," Hermione replied tartly. "Arthur Weasley getting attacked by a giant snake wasn't specifically on that list, but it falls under close friend or family member being attacked. He'll come here. I've got to go to St. Mungo's and get them the antivenin, and then go get Molly."

Sirius nodded, leaning against the rail of the staircase. "Do you need someone to go to the Burrow?" he asked. He was eager to leave the house, Hermione noted, but Dumbledore had explicitly forbidden it.

"You need to stay here and wait for Harry," Hermione ordered. "And Molly can't know until after it's happened. I'm off. Can someone alert Dumbledore?"

Remus nodded, heading off into the kitchen where the Floo was located.

Hermione bit her lip, momentarily unwilling to leave the warmth of the house. "I'm off then," she said.

"Thank you," Sirius said suddenly. "Will you be coming later, Hermione? Stay for Christmas?"

She had been planning on it anyway, since she needed to stay near Harry, but it was nice to hear the invitation. "Yeah," she replied. "Thanks."

Sirius smiled at her, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Best go, then," he said. "I'll see you soon enough."

* * *

The Headmaster's office was thankfully warm. Hermione felt the throbbing in her head, up in her sinuses and pounding in her temples. The weariness was pressing at the backs of her eyes, and her legs hurt. She was getting sick; she had been hovering on the edge of illness for the past two days (four for her) and now it was a sure thing. Scratchy throat, raspy voice, aching muscles. There was no getting out of it now.

It was the warmth that had Hermione focusing on her discomfort. It was either that or the soft whuffling of Dumbledore's silver machines, and the latter would send her to sleep.

She was saved from that by Dumbledore reentering the room. "Hermione," he said, a fraction of coolness in his voice.

The struggle to get her eyes open took just a moment, but it was long enough for the look of disapproval on Dumbledore's face to deepen. "Yes?"

He sat and folded his hands into his usual steeple. "We have much to discuss and not much time."

"Then we'd best get started," Hermione replied, a bit sick of the old man's games. "What is it?"

He didn't as much glare at her as look at her disapprovingly. "You disobeyed your orders twice in one night."

She was too tired to care. She lifted one eyebrow, meeting the Headmaster's eyes. "Which ones?"

"You allowed Harry Potter to start a relationship with Miss Chang  _ and _ you left Harry unprotected in the castle while you ran about with the antivenin!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "Both of which you  _ knew _ you were not permitted to do!"

Hermione glared right back. "I had no control over what happened with Harry and Cho. Usually I turn back after I go to bed and follow Harry leaving the D.A. meeting and tonight I wasn't able to because I was busy helping save Arthur Weasley's life!"

"That was not your place!" roared Dumbledore. "Your place is at Harry Potter's side!"

Hermione stood, unafraid to shout back. "He needed the antivenin and I was the only one who knew where it was! Severus gave me orders I thought had come from you!

The Headmaster made a visible attempt to calm himself. "And what exactly did Severus say?" he asked in a dangerously soft voice.

However weary and resultantly brash Hermione was, she knew that an angry Dumbledore was not the best person to antagonize. She sat back down. "He said, ' _ Nagini attacked Arthur Weasley. The Dark Lord calls. My antivenin is the green bottle, nightstand. One turn only.'  _ Those were his words exactly."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "So you could have gotten the antivenin, turned back, and  _ given it to me in my office without ever leaving the school. _ "

That it was completely true made Hermione's stomach sink. That was probably exactly what Severus had wanted her to do. "I-"

"Instead you left the school in the middle of the night, leaving Harry unprotected. Then you went to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, alerted  _ Sirius Black _ before you alerted me personally, and then you proceeded to go to St. Mungo's and  _ make contact _ with the only member of the Order who is also a Healer, not only possibly exposing yourself but exposing her. Now she knows that you must have a Time Device of some sort or the gift of prophecy to know that a man was attacked and have a cure prepared moments before he was brought in! Should her tongue wag-"

"I swore her to secrecy," Hermione interrupted, guilt churning in her belly. "I didn't want to put her at risk."

Dumbledore's eyes were blue ice. "Unfortunately, Miss Granger, you already have. Should Lord Voldemort come to power again, the Ministry will be turned inside out, Hogwarts will be turned on her head, but  _ St. Mungo's will remain the same.  _ That one Healer is vital, and you have jeopardized her and her family, not to mention the entirety of Wizarding England by leaving her only hope unguarded in a hostile castle!"

Her head was throbbing. "I understand, sir," Hermione said, bowing her head and placing it in her hands. The blackness was comforting. She wanted nothing more now than Severus.

"You have failed us tonight, Miss Granger," said the Headmaster coldly.

She wanted to scream, to give a million excuses, to make him take those piercing eyes off of her. "I- I know. I'll- I'll make sure they don't stay together. Harry and Cho. They'll be apart by Valentine's Day."

"Sooner, if you can, Miss Granger," replied Dumbledore. The harshness faded somewhat from his visage. "Now. Severus has not yet returned and I do not know in what state he will be when he does return. Since you know his movements best and are, for lack of a better term, his handler, you will wait for him and report back to me when he returns."

Hermione stood, willing herself not to waver in front of the powerful wizard. "Of course."

"I will make arrangements for you to be transported to Number 12 Grimmauld Place this afternoon," the Headmaster continued. "When you are there, do not leave Harry's side for a moment."

* * *

She decided to wait outside the gate, rather than inside the castle. What Dumbledore had said worried her- perhaps the Dark Lord was angrier with Severus than she had originally thought. The cold air would keep her awake, alert.

_ He goes there every week and nearly always comes back unscathed. _

_ Severus knows what he's doing. _

_ But the Dark Lord is an unpredictable bastard. _

_ Severus knows what he is doing. _

_ What if they dump him here like they did at Spinner's End? _

The night that was slowly giving its throne to day was dusky rather than deep. The sky had begun to lighten imperceptibly, the stars were fading, their paltry light blending into the haze of the sky. The snow had stopped.

She hid herself in the shadow of the trees that lined the Hogwarts grounds. She would wait for her spy.

Her lonely, lovely spy with dark eyes and a dark soul and a dark heart. Her Severus, who made her heart ache and her belly twist and her mind race. He meant so much to her, but at the moment it felt like he was breaking away from her and all that was holding them together- the bonds that had been so strong a month ago- had thinned to gossamer threads, only visible when the wind moved them and the sunlight shined the right way. And right now, there was hardly ever sunlight.

In the dark of the cold of the night, Hermione could almost disbelieve her own existence, trapped in the unholy space between dusk and dawn, the grey chill that seeped into marrow and turned her flesh into a mottled numbness.

It was nearing breakfast time when a soft crack rebounded through the biting air, depositing a long thin shape that Hermione recognized as Severus. He swayed, then began to stalk determinedly to the hidden gate. She stood, on legs that felt frozen, to stumble after him.

There were flecks of blood on the snow where he had been standing. The snow was still colorless with the lack of morning light, the struggling sun obscured by the clouds, making the dark drops into a contradiction of color. There was a scattering, rounded bulbs that were nearly drops, colorless but in a different way than the snow, in a dark absorbing manner that glittered menacingly.

Severus was still making his way to the gate. She followed him, her legs still unsteady under her. "Severus-" she called, her voice tripping over itself as her feet did the same, She tumbled ungracefully into the snow, her numb legs twisting upon themselves and sprawling out.

Her concentration failed, and the spell that had kept her hidden and sapped her energy disappeared. The dark shape that was Severus whirled, wand slashing down on her before he recognized her prone form. The silence froze the moment, the cold froze Hermione, and Severus' spell tore through her. Her legs snapped together, her body was bound to the ground, and her air was cut off by a band pressing against her throat.

Dull, apathetic grey eyes met hers and then lit with emotion; they were the last thing Hermione saw before the heavy darkness smothered her.

* * *

Warmth.

Warmth and a heartbeat, the scent of herbs and books and potions, a rocking motion that told a dazed Hermione that she was being carried somewhere.

The sensation was wonderfully familiar, so comforting that for a moment Hermione could not remember why it also made her so achingly sad.

She kept her eyes closed, afraid that if she opened them the illusion would dissipate and she would be left alone in a cold bed or in a cold forest rather than strong arms and a warm body close to hers.

The temperature around her changed, warming, making her cold extremities sting. The arms dipped her, and then she met a cold sofa. He was gentle as he lowered her head, and in her drowsy state, Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"Are you waking up then?" his voice asked tightly.

Her eyelids were heavy, but she forced them open anyway. "Yes," she slurred. "You 'kay?"

" _ I _ am fine," snarled Severus. " _ You _ , however, were dangerously close to losing several fingers and toes." As he was speaking, a fire roared to life in the fireplace and Hermione noted the sensation of long fingers tugging her boots off.

She blinked at him. "But-" Long fingers plucked off her socks.

"But  _ nothing _ ," he spat. "What possessed you to wait for me?"

Anger flared, and she pushed herself up on her elbows to look at him. "Dumbledore ordered me to," she said coldly.

The wall that had been in front of his face hardened. "To get my report?"

"Exactly." Even as her words were harsh and his were stony, the hands rubbing life back into her feet didn't pause.

Glittering dangerously, his eyes flicked away from her. "Then I shall give it. The Dark Lord sent his snake, Nagini, to the Department of Mysteries because he had heard from my own mouth that a valuable Order member would be guarding the prophecy. The snake found the man easily, and was able to attack him even easier because he was sleeping. The snake ripped out-"

"I know that already," Hermione snapped. "Harry saw it all." Pain from her frozen feet made her want to cringe, but she bit the inside of her cheek and kept her expression neutral.

His mouth tightened in a sign Hermione recognized as annoyance. "I knew that already," he said sarcastically. "That was the main reason the Dark Lord kept me so long tonight." He glared at her and raised an expectant eyebrow. "May I continue or did the Boy Wonder also inhabit the Dark Lord's mind during the meeting?"

"As soon as he was awake the vision stopped," said Hermione.

Severus sneered, telling her silently that he was well aware that her response was admitting defeat. "He called me to his side before he even sent out the snake. It was a test of my loyalty."

Hermione's brow furrowed in thought. "Why would he need to test your loyalty?"

"Because he has finalized his most audacious plan yet," sighed Severus. "He's planning to break ten people out of Azkaban."

"Ten?" Hermione breathed, bringing one hand up to rub at her temples. "Merlin. I'm assuming the Lestranges?"

"You'd assume correctly," Severus said, nodding his head in acknowledgement. "But tonight was about attacking a prominent Order member and assuring my loyalty. He had to be absolutely sure before telling me about his plan for Azkaban."

Hermione nodded, wincing absentmindedly. Her mind was no longer on concentrating to keep the pain out of her face. Now she was more concerned with the implications of what Severus was telling her. "But what about what did happen tonight? Arthur's going to live, he had the antivenin. Won't he see your hand in that?"

Severus nostrils flared. "He probably will suspect me," he admitted. "But that can't be helped. Arthur Weasley dying was not an option. And I was at his side the entire night- he might think that Dumbledore ordered me to prepare antivenin and used what I had created."

Fear was curling icy tendrils around Hermione's heart. "Will he punish you?"

"Most assuredly," drawled Severus. "Concerned for my safety now?"

She had to close her eyes as tears threatened. "Always, Severus." She felt, rather than saw, him freeze, the hands on her feet pausing.

"You're warm now," he said abruptly. "Cast a warming charm on your hands and feet." He stood, and in three swift strides was in the kitchen area, and hidden from her sight. Clanking soon reached her ears, and the sound of a lid being opened and leaves rustled. Tea. He was making her tea. She had missed the taste of his own personal blend, the one he made for himself alone.

Warming spells were easy work, simple enough for a third year. She was still shivering, though, and a cup of tea would do wonders on warming her stomach. It wouldn't do anything for her fear though. That would stay with her, as would the guilt.

When he returned with two mugs, Severus' face was impassive. But Hermione had not lost her ability to see even the tiniest quirks in the lines around his eyes and the way he held his shoulders straight. He was bothered, bothered by something.

"Even if Dumbledore hadn't ordered me to wait for you, I would have," she said quietly.

He glared at her. "Then you are still a greater fool than I would have thought. You could have frozen to death."

She glared right back. "And if you had been hurt? And if they had just left you outside the gates?"

"I would have called you through the watches," countered Severus. "As I did this summer!"

A broken laugh caught in her throat. "Would you have?" she asked bitterly.

When she looked up, his eyes were waiting for her, silvery dark and swirling with a mix of anger and shame and sadness. Never before had she had such an urge to take his head and cradle it to her breast, to kiss the top of his head, to use her hands and take all his hurt away. Without breaking contact, he reached out, offering her the mug.

She took it with trembling hands, brushing his fingers with hers. Something flared behind the grey, something that demanded an answer from her own eyes.

"Of course I would have," Severus whispered. His lips were nearly still; the words fell like secrets from his mouth. All was implicit in his voice, his trust and his fear and his defiance.

It was too much for her to bear. Hermione looked away. "Apparently I'll be spending Christmas at Headquarters. Will you be there?"

"No," Severus said, shaking his head once. Strands of dark hair fell across his face. "I'll be spending the holidays at Spinner's End. The Dark Lord is planning some holiday festivities to celebrate the winter solstice. There might be a revel."

She swallowed hard, sipping at the hot tea to calm herself. "Keep me informed," she said, voice cracking a bit. "Let me know what's going on."

A terse nod was her answer. They sat in silence, their only anchors the cups of tea in their hands.  _ He's like a magnet, _ Hermione thought, her head buzzing still.  _ He's pulling me closer and closer to him. I'm never going to be able to stay away from him. _

She sniffed helplessly, feeling the weight of her cold (or whatever it was that was weakening her marrow and making her nose run) took hold. The noise echoed embarrassingly in the small room.

"Are you getting sick?" Severus asked sharply.

Hermione shrugged uncomfortably. "I think I might be," admitted the woman. "And I did myself no favors tonight. I was going to go to Madam Pomfrey in the morning."

A frown crossed his face. "It almost sounds like you have no personal connection to a Potions Master of the highest caliber."

The corners of her mouth wanted nothing more than to flick up into a smile, but a thread of doubt held them still. "I wasn't sure if I was still on speaking terms with the aforementioned Potions Master of the highest caliber," she quipped.

She did not know what, exactly, she had been expecting, but his response was a long sigh. "I was trying to protect you. Protect us."

"And I told you I didn't care," Hermione murmured.

"It's too dangerous now not to care," replied Severus wearily. "It's always been too dangerous."

She smiled sadly at him. "I'm a Gryffindor. I live for danger."

"And Slytherins avoid it with every bone in their body," Severus said, eyes relaxing into a semblance of what she remembered. "I have a potion to help you." He set his tea down, unfolding his long legs and disappearing into the depths of his rooms.

Moments later, before Hermione could fully process everything he had told her, he reappeared with a flask. He uncorked it with slender, delicate fingers, in deft movements that made Hermione's belly clench as the sensory memory of those strong fingers winding in her hair and tugging at her scalp. She wordlessly took the flask from him, tilting her head back and swallowing the vile brew in two quick gulps.

Vile was the right word for it- she shuddered, opening her eyes to find that Severus' were glued to her bared neck.

_ So I do still have... something over him, _ she mused.  _ Is that lust? Attraction? Wariness? _

"Better?" he asked.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "You should use your high caliber skills to make your potions taste like strawberries," she told him tartly.

"Thank you would have sufficed," he replied, taking the flask from her. "I'll endeavor to do better in the future."

She sighed. "I suppose I'll need to be getting to breakfast." Even she could hear the regret in her own voice.

He nodded. Although Severus was still dressed in his full Death Eater's garb, the humanity etched onto his face reminded her that he was just as weary as she was. "It's the last day of classes. I doubt any of the teachers will want to do much."

Standing would be difficult. She braced herself on the couch, pushing up until she was standing on her two painful feet. Hermione wavered, putting out a hand to catch herself. Strong arms gripped her forearm, steadying her.

"Thanks," she murmured, savoring the contact with him. If things continued as they had been, it would be the last in a long time. The warmth of his fingers bled through her shirt to her skin, leaving an imprint as intangible as whatever it was they shared.

He seemed to understand that she could not bring herself to pull away. "Go," he said, not roughly. There was no sympathy in his voice, but the same echoing sadness that she found in his eyes. "I'm sure our High Inquisitor will want to speak with you."

* * *

Severus was right.

Three minutes after Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table (her nose no longer running and her head feeling less full of cotton) the stubby witch was bearing down on her, two spots of red high and shining on her pale cheeks.

"Where is Mr. Potter?" While not quite a screech, Dolores Umbridge's voice was rather frantic.

Hermione blinked up at her professor. "Excuse me-" From behind the stout shape of the furious woman, Hermione could see Professor McGonagall descending, anger evident in the thinness of her lips.

"Harry Potter!" Now the voice was a screech, loud enough to make Hermione wince. "Where is Harry Potter?"

"Dolores Umbridge!" shouted McGonagall, the very picture of outraged shock. "What do you think you are doing?"

Umbridge's beady eyes narrowed even farther. "He's missing, and you helped!"

McGonagall drew herself up, the full authority of her status of Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Mistress settling upon her. "Mr. Potter had to leave early, due to a family emergency," she said stiffly. "Arthur Weasley is in St Mungo's, and the Headmaster has given them all permission to visit."

"Why was I not informed?" hissed Umbridge, glaring up at the much taller Minerva. "I am the High Inquisitor-"

Minerva smiled icily. "Which was exactly why we did not want to wake you," she said smoothly. "The Headmaster has asked to see you in his office, so that we can all discuss this in a more private location." The look on her face made it clear that the Head of Gryffindor House disapproved completely of discussing such matters in the middle of the Great Hall.

Umbridge exhaled loudly, her nostrils flaring. "Of course." She turned on her heel and angrily made her way between the tables to the exit.

Minerva didn't smile outright at Hermione, but she did pat the girl's shoulder. "The Headmaster wishes to see you as soon as we are finished with her. He'll send a messenger."

A sinking feeling swooped low in Hermione's belly. The Headmaster had demanded Severus' report; she had taken it but had gone straight to breakfast.

She sighed, and picked at her food. She would turn back in time, she supposed, and then maybe sleep for an hour or two so that she could be mildly coherent in class. She took a last sip of her pumpkin juice and stood, slinging her overly heavy bag onto her shoulder.

Once in her private room, she turned back. Once again, dawn was nearly breaking. Severus would be carrying her- yet again because she was injured- to his rooms.  _ Test of Severus' loyalty, Azkaban breakout, _ she thought to herself.  _ Test of loyalty, Azkaban. _ That was all the Headmaster needed to know.

* * *

The Knight Bus jolted Hermione terribly, throwing her into the window with enough force to bruise. She gave the window a nasty glare, and heaved herself up again.

"London Stop! Yer off, Miss!" It was the conductor, a pimply, gangly boy. Hermione nodded, and gathered her things.

Snow drifted lazily down to the dirty streets, piling in slushy mounds on the corners. The air was harsh in her lungs, tasting of smoke and smog and the streets of old London town. Early evening had fallen and the lit street lamps and the oppressive darkness of early winter nights pressed heavily on Hermione’s shoulders.

She had been deposited three blocks from Grimmauld Place, enough for a short Apparition that wouldn't attract too much attention. She turned on her heel, endured a brief squeeze through space, and resumed her march up the weathered steps of Sirius Black's family home.

Normally Hermione would have knocked, but she wanted to alert the self that was within the walls of Grimmauld place that she had arrived. On cue, Walburga Black's portrait set up a cacophony of shrieks and racial slurs that made Hermione wince.

Sirius quickly appeared, ushering her inside. Even though his mother was screaming, he still had a large grin on his face. "Great to see you, Hermione!" he said cheerfully. "Harry and Ron will be happy to hear you've arrived!"

Hermione beamed at him. Sirius had a kind of infectious charm that always made her smile. "Nice to see you too, Sirius."

The old house was drafty, and the snow that clung to her hair and shoulders did not immediately start to melt. "Where's Harry?" she asked, looking around. She could hear the footsteps pounding down the stairs from the other parts of the house- but they were Ron's thumping and Ginny trailing lightly after him. Fred and George would Apparate if they cared- but they didn't.

Sirius frowned. "He's not left my mother's room since yesterday," he admitted. "I don't know what's wrong, but whatever it was, it happened at St Mungo's."

Patting his arm reassuringly, Hermione gave a short sigh. "I'll get it from Ron and Ginny and then I'll get him into shape," she said. "Give me two hours."

Two bursts of red could be seen briefly on the landing, and then Ron and Ginny skidded down the stairs with twin mixes of confusion and relief on their faces. "Hermione!"

With a quick wave back at a still grinning Sirius, Hermione allowed the two Weasley siblings to drag her up the stairs. She halted them on the landing, though, planting her feet in the ground and using all her weight to stay put. It was harder than she had thought- Ron now completely towered over her, and Ginny was far from a diminutive waif. Rather, the girl was solid, if slim, with the muscles of a Quidditch player.

It was time to cut with the happiness act. "What's going on with Harry?" she demanded.

Ron and Ginny looked at each other and sighed.

"He's been upset since yesterday, when we went to St Mungo's," Ron said, abject worry crossing his usually cheerful features. "He didn't even leave the room for dinner yesterday."

Ginny crossed her arms, leaning against the railing of the landing. "And then Mum tried to get him to come down for lunch- after he ignored us all morning- and he just went another floor up. He's hiding in Buckbeak's room now."

Hermione winced. "Why?"

Ron and Ginny exchanged another set of glances. "Well... we think it's because of something Moody said yesterday," Ron hedged.

"Moody thinks that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is possessing Harry," Ginny said bluntly, rolling her eyes. "The word 'possession' isn't going to make me start crying, Ronald."

In an instant, Ginny Weasley sharpened to Hermione. It was easy to forget that this popular, sporty, well-adjusted teen had been the girl vulnerable enough to be possessed for months by the Dark Lord. Ginny Weasley had seen dark things and come out of them. And, perhaps, had learned something from the shade of Tom Riddle - she was certainly more popular now than she had been her first year.

Hermione met the girl's eyes. It took a heartbeat, and then she was there. Yes, it was present, the sibilant memory of shadows and crooning voices and snakes, all the time, snakes slithering in her head and commanding trembling white hands to do things that would drench them in blood-

Ginny blinked.

Her heart was racing, Hermione realized. She looked down, biting her lip. "Let me talk to him," she said slowly. "You guys wait in Ron's room. I'll bring him in a second."

There was a flash of annoyance on Ginny's face.  _ She is probably wondering what makes me so sure I can heave his arse out of his pit of angst and despair, _ Hermione thought ruefully.

Ron tugged his sister's arm; they went into the dark corridor and Hermione continued up the stairs.

Behind the door she could hear the squishy crunching of Buckbeak munching a dead rat. With a grimace, she raised her fist and banged the door. She figured that harshness wasn't the best option right now- she would go for sweetness.

"I know you're in there," she called. "Won't you please come out, Harry?"

It worked- the door was wrenched open, and a disheveled Harry stood before her.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked her, pulling open the door as Buckbeak resumed his scratching at the straw-strewn floor for any fragments of rat he may have dropped. "I thought you were skiing with your mum and dad?"

"Well, to tell the truth, skiing's not really my thing," said Hermione. "So, I've come here for Christmas. But don't tell Ron. I told him it's really good because he kept laughing so much. Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who is serious about the exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, they'll understand. Anyway," she said briskly, "let's go to your bedroom, Ron's mum has lit a fire in there and she's sent up sandwiches."  _ Easy as that. Don't give him a chance to say anything and he'll follow. Honestly, Ron's known Harry longer than I have. _

Harry followed her back to the second floor. When he entered the bedroom, he seemed rather surprised to see both Ron and Ginny waiting for them, sitting on Ron's bed.

"I came on the Knight Bus," said Hermione airily, pulling off her jacket before Harry had time to speak. "Dumbledore told me what had happened first thing this morning, but I had to wait for term to end officially before setting off. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo's and he'd given you all permission to visit. So…"

She sat down next to Ginny, and the two girls and Ron all looked up at Harry.  _ Time for the real questions. _

"How're you feeling?" asked Hermione.

"Fine," said Harry stiffly.  _ Oh don't give me that, you silly boy. _

"Oh, don't lie, Harry," she said impatiently. "Ron and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St Mungo's."

"They do, do they?" said Harry, glaring at Ron and Ginny. Ron looked down at his feet but Ginny seemed quite unabashed.  _ Yes, they did. They were worried for you, you prat, couldn't you see that? _

"Well, you have!" Ginny said. "And you won't look at any of us!" Hermione approved of the fire that blazed in the girl's face.  _ She must have gotten it all. Ron looks about as fiery as a limp noodle compared to her. _

"It's you lot who won't look at me!" said Harry angrily.

"Maybe you're taking it in turns to look, and keep missing each other," suggested Hermione, the corners of her mouth twitching.  _ I'm sorry but this is all very much teen drama of the century. It would be hilarious if this wasn't the boy we've been pinning all our hopes on. _

"Very funny," snapped Harry, turning away.  _ Oh look, now I've hurt his tender feelings. _

"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood," said Hermione sharply. "Look, the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears -"

"Yeah?" Harry growled, his hands deep in his pockets as he watched the snow now falling thickly outside. "All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it."  _ Preteen girl, I swear. _

Hermione opened her mouth at the same time Ginny did. Hermione closed her mouth and nodded at Harry, gesturing for the younger girl to go ahead. "We wanted to talk to you, Harry," said Ginny, "but as you've been hiding ever since we got back -"

"I didn't want anyone to talk to me," said Harry. There was a stubborn set to his chin that Hermione didn't like.

"Well, that was a bit stupid of you," snapped Ginny, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."

Again, Hermione could feel the aching sadness behind those words. Here was a girl who had been teased endlessly about her crush on Harry Potter, which had made her go back to thinking about how Harry would have never done that or would have protected her, until she was insecure and blushed at a new face. But at the same time this was the same girl who was underestimated and overlooked and who took  _ advantage _ of that to sneak out to her brother's broomshed and practice on their brooms until she taught herself Quidditch well enough to play on the House team. She had Voldemort inside her head for a year and managed not to go twisted. She grew up to be a shockingly well-adjusted girl who was pretty and popular and smart.

_ Dumbledore may have chosen well, _ she admitted to herself.  _ But it should be Harry's decision. I can't believe I never thought about Ginny this way before. _

Harry too, apparently, had never really considered this. "I forgot."

"Lucky you," said Ginny coolly. Sitting next to her, Hermione could see just a cloud of red hair next to her face, but she could still hear the quiet frustration in Ginny's voice.

"I'm sorry" Harry said, and he meant it. "So… so, do you think I'm being possessed, then?"

"Well, can you remember everything you've been doing?" asked Ginny. "Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

"No," Harry said, drawing out the word as he frowned.

"Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you," said Ginny simply. "When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there."

Hermione could sense it wasn't quite the right time to point out that there were several different types of possession and that was only one. Harry looked as if a great weight had just slid off his shoulders.

However, that hope was cautions. "That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though-"

There was a point there, but one Hermione wanted to divert. "Harry you've had these dreams before. You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year."

"This was different," said Harry, shaking his head. "I was inside that snake. It was like I was the snake… what if Voldemort somehow transported me to London?"

At least that fear was easy to abate. "One day," said Hermione, allowing her exasperation to leak through her voice, "you'll read  _ Hogwarts: A History _ , and perhaps it will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry."

"You didn't leave your bed, mate," said Ron. "I saw you thrashing around in your sleep for at least a minute before we could wake you up."

Harry started pacing up and down the room again, thinking. Apparently he digested what they had said, because he grinned broadly and grabbed a sandwich, shoving it in his mouth.

"There," Hermione said, brushing her hands down her jeans in the motion she normally did to smooth down her skirt. "Wouldn't it just have been easier to  _ talk _ to all of us before getting all mopey?" She stood, crossing her arms. She was unable to stop the small smile from emerging on her face.

Harry laughed, grabbing Hermione into a large hug. "You're the greatest," he whispered.

She squeezed back for a moment, then pushed away. "And you stink," she said firmly. "Shower then come down and help us decorate the house."

He didn't say anything, but she could see the mute hope in his eyes. She wished it was that easy, that there wasn't something greater going on, that she could reassure him with full confidence.

But the dreams... no. There was something bigger coming, and it was just over the horizon. It was like the dawn- she could see the light peeking up, the hints and clues that were forming dim images on the land, but the sun had yet to come and illuminate the whole picture.

The Dark Lord was planning something and it had not yet come to fruition. She would need to speak with Severus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 23!
> 
> Hope you all are staying safe. So far, so good - we got more PPE and enough to give our client some masks as well, which is good. 
> 
> See you on Wednesday!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! An extra Wednesday update as part of the new twice a week schedule! Personally, this is one my favorite chapters...

**Chapter 24**

Hermione rose early on Christmas morning, uncertainty worrying at her chest. There was already a pile of gifts at the base of her bed, the wrapping paper reflecting dully in the sole light of her wand.

_ Should I give him the gift? _

She turned it over in her hand. It wasn't anything terribly important or valuable. Just a chain. A new chain for his pocket watch. Hermione had spelled it herself, charming it to outlast fire, spells, and any form of tool. No one would be able to take the watch from him, if this was what was keeping it attached.

Decision made, she closed her eyes and concentrated on wordlessly creating a box for the chain. From there it was easy to charm a bow to the top. A glance over at Ginny showed that the redhead had not stirred.

Cold feet on the bare floor sent a reverberating ache up her legs. She moved stiffly in the night, the ache from her back injury aggravated by the temperature.  _ I'm a teenager and already I have war injuries. I wonder how Severus even gets out of bed in the mornings. He's kind of broken, more broken than me, anyway. _

She didn't know if he'd be in his room in Grimmauld Place. Chances were he would be at Malfoy Manor of Spinner's end. But she could leave it in there for him, for the next time he stopped by. Or perhaps a house-elf would take it to him.

The house creaked as she moved through silent halls. Except- the door opening.

"I will warn you now, portrait, make one sound and I will use the darkest curses I know to permanently stitch your mouth shut," a cold voice said in a harsh whisper.

_ Severus. _

Hermione nearly ran, racing to catch him before he left again. A sliver of light opened into the hallway, then narrowed again as he shut the kitchen door.

She hesitated before opening it. Things were still not quite right between them. The sodden conversation in his rooms had felt eerily familiar. Not exactly so- more like seeing an old bedroom in a dream, a setting that was familiar but off because the details were missing.

The opening of the door surprised him. A wand was pointed at her before she had two feet in the room. She met his eyes steadily, moving slowly as she stepped fully inside and shut the door behind her again. "It's just me, Severus."

He glared at her, and in one fluid movement sheathed his wand. "You should be sleeping."

"I could say the same of you," answered Hermione.

Silence fell. Hermione became aware of the chill of the ground seeping into her skin, of the dim light of the kitchen and the tension on Severus' face.

"Happy Christmas," she said after a moment.

He nodded jerkily. "Happy Christmas."

In order to forestall the quiet she knew was coming, Hermione shifted and spoke. "I have something for you." It was early enough that the sky outside was still dark, dark enough that it still felt like deepest night. Her words felt like a confession instead of a statement. Either way, she was offering something of herself to him and Severus understood that.

Hermione held out the package, watching him as he reached for it slowly. Long white fingers delicately plucked the parcel from her grasp, dexterous enough to avoid brushing her skin. She shivered anyway.

Ripping the paper in a few deft movements, the sound loud in the quiet room, Severus opened his gift. The line of his neck was rigid, his face set in a carefully neutral expression. There was a quiet chinking sound as the links of the chain brushed against each other as he lifted it from the paper.

The metal shimmered in the light from the fire, the reflected light obscuring the coloring of the metal. He examined it, tilting his head a fraction to the side.

"It's a watch chain," she said needlessly. "For your pocket watch."

"I know what a watch chain does," Severus said wryly. "But I have an inkling concerning this particular chain."

Her brow furrowed. "You shouldn't be able to sense the magic," said the witch. "I hid everything I did to it under layers of deception runes."

A flicker of amusement twitched on his lips, then disappeared. "Of course you did."

"Then how did you know?" she asked, a bit put out.

His eyes caught hers, holding them with easy gravitas. "You wouldn't just give me a chain for my watch. You would want to make it special."

She had no compunctions about allowing a thin spreading of her lips. "You know me so well."

It came out jaded, bitter. She hadn't meant for it to sound that way.

There was a harshness to the hand that held the chain now. He tucked it into his coat, the chain disappearing into a pocket. "Don't lie to yourself. It is my business to read people."

"So you've just been reading me, then?" The heat of anger, when normally Hermione tried to keep a cool head, seemed to rise in her belly all too often when she was around Severus. "I'm not a silly child who believes it every time someone tells them they're special. I use reason, I keep my senses. I know I'm not anything too- too  _ brilliant _ or unique." Her words weren't clipped anymore, they were blending together. "But I thought that  _ you _ of all people would recognize that-" Tears would be bad. She wanted to appear strong in front of him, but every time they met he wrought emotion in her so powerful it needed to spill from her body in some way. "I know I'm nothing special to you."

"Don't say that." The usually dulcet tones were strained. Severus appeared to be in some sort of distress, that Hermione could see despite the lack of change in his posture or expression. She folded her arms in front of herself.

"Why shouldn't I?" she said, squeezing herself hard. "It's your business to read people. I’m just another person-"

"You aren't," he told her, desperation evident in the distance he crossed to stand even closer to her.

Standing this close to him, close enough to smell the night snow and the dampness of his woollen cloak, was overwhelming. Hermione took a step back, which made the edge of the counter hit the small of her back. She winced at the ache that it caused.

_ I'm not just another person to him, he says.  _ Three months ago she would have taken it as meaning that she was special. But now, today, after the culmination of everything that had transpired since their kiss...

Hermione closed her eyes, refusing to look at him. She knew that her eyes were begging him to say something different, to tell her that she was special to him, that she meant something.

_ Look at the larger picture, _ her rational self demanded.  _ He's here in the middle of the night. Something must have happened to bring him here in the middle of a snowstorm. Stop this childish dithering about your precious feelings and find out what it is. _

She took in a shaky breath, steadying herself. "I'm sorry." She opened her eyes. "There must be a reason you are here in the middle of the night. Forget this. What happened?"

What she said flustered him; he looked away from her for the first time. Even so, he didn't take a step back. "No reason."

_ He doesn't want to tell me. Once he told me everything... and now... no.  _ That might have cut more deeply than anything else.

"You can't tell me?" she asked, hating how her voice was climbing higher and higher. "I- I'm sorry. I'll leave now-"

She tried to move away from the counter, but was blocking her path. The tears were building again behind her eyes, and she closed them as she attempted to circle him.

Severus reached out, large hands capturing her shoulders. "Wait," he said, his own voice cracking.

"Why?" Hermione asked, voice thin and reedy. "I'm not even a  _ person _ to you, and-"

"I came here because I wanted to leave you a gift," Severus said quickly, harshly. It seemed that he was refusing to give into embarrassment. Instead his eyes were intense and his voice smooth again. "I didn't want you to see me. I just wanted to leave you something."

Thought paused in Hermione's mind.  _ He wanted to give me something for Christmas. He doesn't give Christmas gifts to anyone, he hates the holidays, he- but he was going to give me something. _

She didn't know what to say, so she just looked at him with wide eyes. He sighed, and she felt his breath on her face. His hands were still holding her in place, the long fingers warm through the thin material of her pyjamas. His thumbs were rubbing her arm lightly, seemingly without his knowledge.

"You are more than just a  _ person _ to me, Hermione," he murmured. That voice pulled something from her, drawing a yearning from her very bones.

The heat from his body was tempting her in the cold of the kitchen. The fire in the corner was not helping the chill of the house. She was drawn to it, leaning into him. "Then what am I?"

Her head was lifted and tilted slightly to the side. She could feel his arms leaving her shoulders and upper arms to circle her body. It was achingly slow this time, as he pressed her to him deliberately, then gently lowered his lips to hers. Their first kiss had been a brush, the second a devouring. This kiss was firm, knowing. He wasn't gentle or soft, he didn't caress her lips sweetly.

Instead he suckled her lower lip into his mouth, biting down lightly before opening his mouth wider and urging her to do the same. The last time she had not been aware of anything, just the sensation of being consumed. This time she was aware of each movement, of the most ephemeral detail. The sliding of his mouth across hers, the supple warmth of his tongue, the scratchy feel of his outer coat and the callused tips of his fingers brushing across her skin as her shirt lifted and they brushed her waist.

The last time had been a blur of movement and of lips and teeth and tongue. Now that he was kissing her slowly, not turning her head with lust, she didn't know what to do, where to put her hands. She just let herself be kissed, mimicking his movements as best she could.

She liked the taste of his mouth, the sure way he held her, the intensity she could feel in his carefully controlled movements. Something told her that his holding back was not out of lack of passion. It was that if he didn't hold himself back, it would become like last time, when both their blood had run hot and she had been left aroused and bruised.

A moment later he was pulling away, loosening his grip on her.

"That wasn't an answer," whispered Hermione. The confusion that had disappeared with his lips on hers was sinking back in.  _ He kisses me one time and then we don't talk for weeks. And now? What happens now? _

His grey eyes- she was close enough to see their true color, the flecks of light and dark in the smoky circle of his iris- were serious. "I know."

She closed her eyes, and laid her head on his chest. Severus stiffened, but the arms around her held her closer. "Then what was it?" His chest was warm, and the scent of herbs and books and potions was enveloping that close. The thump of his heart was right under her ear.

"I don't know," he admitted. The rumble of his voice sunk to her bones.

"Don't say that," she told him, willing herself still not to cry. At least this was better than being pushed away, than stumbling through the halls of Hogwarts with a heavy mouth and a heavier heart.

The sensation of him pressing a kiss to the top of her head made the first tear leak. "It wasn't a promise of anything. We can't do this."

"Then why did you kiss me?" Hermione demanded, still clinging to him. Another tear fell down her exposed cheek, leaving a trail of cold. "Why did you do it, you- you bastard?" Her breath caught, and she knew he felt it.

The rumble was back, lower. "Because I wanted to," he said roughly. "You overestimate my self control."

_ He wants me, _ Hermione thought, half giddy and half miserable.  _ He wants me. _

"Then don't have any," she suggested.

He chuckled. "I can't afford that."

They were quiet. Hermione listened to the beating of his heart, matching her breathing to his in order to calm herself down. The quiet resignation was spreading again in her chest.  _ He told me in the practice room that it was dangerous for him for us to do... this. Whatever this is. I don't want him hurt because of me. _

"Are you okay?" she asked suddenly. "He wasn't- he wasn't mad at you? He didn't hurt you?"

Severus pulled away from her, the warmth in him gone. "No. He is consumed with preparation for the breakout." The malignant thought of the Dark Lord slid in between them.

"We need to talk about this," Hermione said after a moment, cursing herself for ruining whatever kind of moment they were having. "Somewhere that isn't the kitchen of Headquarters."

"Agreed." Severus gave her the kind of half smirk that had more sincerity than a smile because it was telling her what he really felt.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself again, missing his warmth. "Molly will be waking up soon to cook breakfast. She's been sneaking Arthur food."

Severus drew his cloak around himself. "Very well. We can talk at Hogwarts. I'll send you a report of the Dark Lord's planning. Decide what would be best for the old goat to see and send it back to me. I'll give it to him at Hogwarts."

"Of course," she answered. "Will you be stopping by here?"

"Perhaps," said Severus. "If Dumbledore orders me to."

The awkwardness was back in the air. It came from the lack of things to say; usually, Hermione and Severus operated around and with each other, not necessarily needing words to communicate. Now it felt as if the ease with which they had understood each other was gone, as if something irreversible had changed. It had been like two puzzle pieces before, slotting into one another perfectly, and now it was if the edges had changed minutely, and no matter how hard they tried the pieces wouldn't fit together.

What was she supposed to say? See you later? Bye? Would opening her mouth again even have a purpose?

"I guess-" she tried to say, and stopped.

_ I don't know what to say, _ she thought helplessly, looking at him, trying to tell him without words.

And then something clicked again, comprehension and determination flitting across his eyes and through his body. He stepped forward again, one hand going to her face to hold her chin in place as he pressed a firm, close-mouthed kiss to her own lips. His other hand found hers, pressing a small packet into her palm and folding her fingers around it.

Her eyes were open as he kissed her, meeting his. She wanted desperately to slip into his mind, but the steely grey of his eyes told her it would not be wise. A moment later he pulled away and turned on his heel, crossing the kitchen in two brief strides as the door opened for him. He was gone before Hermione blinked.

In her hand was a velvet drawstring bag. She stroked the softness with her thumb, a wry smile coming to her face.  _ I wonder what it is. Knowing Severus, it's something practical. Like poison. _

She opened it, tipping the bag to spill its contents into her hand. Instead of the small vial she had been anticipating, a length of chain and a stone she didn't immediately identify slithered into her hand. As Severus had done, she held it up to the light. It was a short necklace, made so that the stone would rest in the hollow of her throat. It was a pearl, not perfectly round or iridescent.

_ Pearls. Good for holding or storing magic. Less noticeable than opals, better conductors of magic for women than men. Strengthens a woman's magic at the full moon. Known for ideals of feminine beauty, traditionally a gift for a young woman. Not as rare as diamonds, not as powerful as rubies. Gentle magics, storing magics. Signs of affection. A- a lover's token. _

With shaking fingers, she clasped the necklace around her neck. As she had thought, the pearl rested in the hollow of her throat, cold against her skin. The chain was thin, finer than the chain that held her Time-Turner and the key to Severus' rooms. She was hyper-aware of it against her skin, even as it warmed to her body temperature.

_ Last time he included a note. _

Hermione checked, but there was no crinkle of paper in the velvet bag. Above her head she could hear the creaking of the stairs. She sighed; Molly Weasley was awake and soon the rest of the house would be too. She needed to get back in her bed before Ginny suspected anything.

Silently, she crept out of the kitchen and through the darkened house, slipping into the drawing-room as she waited for Molly to enter the kitchen. When she saw the flash of light under the door disappear, she made her way back up the stairs, keeping to the edges to avoid creaks.

Even as she tucked herself back under the heavy duvet, Hermione knew she wouldn't go back to sleep. She had too much to think about, including a way to explain the necklace.

_ My parents, _ she decided finally.  _ It would look strange if they didn't send me a gift, and it's a common thing for parents to give their daughters jewelry. _

* * *

The trip back from St Mungo's set Hermione's head into an even deeper whirl. The car that Mundungus had stolen was cramped, so she was jammed between a window and Harry's bony hip and elbow. Her free hand rose to toy with the pearl on her necklace, a habit that she noticed sheepishly that she was already developing.

The first thing that alarmed her was Mr. Weasley's health. Severus had given his precious antivenin to the man, and still he was not healing properly. If the bigoted Healers of St Mungo's- a bit notorious for being extremely dismissive of Muggle remedies- were trying stitches on Arthur Weasley, something was very wrong with his wound.

And secondly, the closed ward. That Lockhart was still there (literally, definitely not figuratively) was a bit comforting. She didn't want any more news of Harry's escapades in the Chamber of Secrets to spread. That Boderick Bode was still insensate was concerning. He had to have  _ information _ or else the Death Eaters wouldn't have even bothered trying to mess with his mind. At least the Healer said that he was getting better.

Finally, Neville's parents. The sight of Alice Longbottom shuffling toward her son to give him a candy wrapper had brought tears to Hermione's eyes. The consequences of war, shown plainly with a still living mother and her son. She had known about the crime that had sent Bellatrix Lestrange to Azkaban, but she had never really connected it in any way with the plump and accident prone boy she knew.

Bellatrix Lestrange would be breaking out of Azkaban in weeks. And Neville would have to deal with that. There was little she or Severus could do about the plans to rescue the Dark Lord's most trusted followers from Azkaban without revealing to the Dark Lord that one of his most trusted Inner Circle was a spy. And of course, he already knew that Severus whispered in Dumbledore's ear. He wouldn't bother looking farther than the most obvious choice. All they could do was tell Kingsley to make sure that the Auror department was overly staffed the night of the breakout and warn him that something would happen.

But something else was unsettling her, something that she had briefly noticed and then dismissed in the closed ward. There was a niggling feeling that something was wrong, but she couldn't quite place what it was.

Maybe it was that Mrs Longbottom had known her name? She hadn't been aware that Neville wrote home about her that often. It made her feel even worse about what was to come.

Perhaps something about Bode? Or Alice, the barking woman?

It was escaping her now. With a sigh, Hermione turned back to the conversation in the car. It would come to her sooner or later.

* * *

The last day of break before term started was accompanied with a distinctly sullen feeling. The children who were still in Hogwarts were dreading their return to Umbridge's dictatorial regime, Sirius and Molly were dreading their empty houses, and Hermione was dreading the breakout.

As a result, everyone was huddled together in the warmth of Harry and Ron's shared room, which had the best fireplace. Hermione clutched a curious Crookshanks in her lap, keeping her cat from lunging at the chessboard. The moving pieces were too much for the feline, who felt the need to attack the stone chess set every time Harry and Ron played.

A knocking at the door interrupted Harry's first victory of the game. Molly Weasley, completely out of breath and red-faced, opened the door.

"Hello, dears. Harry, Hermione, Professor Snape wants to see you in the kitchen."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. "Professor Snape?" Hermione asked. "What's he doing here?"

Molly shrugged. "I'm not sure, dear. But you and Harry had best hurry down. The Professor said that he hasn't got much time, and he and Sirius are alone in the kitchen. I'm worried about my pepper pots."

There seemed to be no hope for it. Hermione handed Ginny a yowling Crookshanks, then followed Harry out of the room. The two of them walked down the stars.

Although the question of what, exactly, Severus wanted with her and Harry was niggling at Hermione's mind, the more selfish part of her was worried about how she would act in front of him. She had thought that she was capable of keeping her fluttering heart hidden under a cool exterior, but the last time she had been in his presence that plan hadn't even had the chance to work.

She allowed Harry to open the door to the kitchen for her, walking into the kitchen. Sirius and Severus were sitting at opposite ends of the table, resolutely looking away from one another. With a sinking feeling, Hermione recognized the muscle working at Severus' jaw, and the glint of malice on his face. When he saw the two of them, he stood.

"Sit down, Potter, Miss Granger." He yanked out a chair irritatedly, crossing his arms as he glared at them.

"You know," said Sirius loudly, leaning back on his rear chair legs and speaking to the ceiling, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."  _ Immature, _ Hermione thought immediately, taking the chair Severus had pulled out. As soon as she was seated, Severus was again too.

An ugly flush suffused Snape's pallid face. Harry sat down in a chair beside Sirius, facing Snape across the table.

"I was supposed to see you alone with Miss Granger, Potter," said Snape, the familiar sneer curling his mouth, "but Black -"

"I'm his godfather," said Sirius, louder than ever. He glanced over at Hermione. "And Hermione knows that I'd look out for her best interests."

"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," said Snape, whose voice, by contrast, was becoming more and more quietly waspish, "but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel… involved."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Sirius, letting his chair fall back on to all four legs with a loud bang. Hermione winced.  _ Stop, Severus. That's just rubbing it in. That's cruel. _

"Merely that I am sure you must feel - ah - frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing _ useful _ ," Snape laid a delicate stress on the word, "for the Order."  _ Had I forgotten that he can be bloody mean sometimes? _

It was Sirius's turn to flush. Snape's lip curled in triumph as he turned to Harry.

"The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term." Realization came over Hermione. Yes, the Headmaster had mentioned this. Now that she knew the purpose of the visit, she could relax a bit.

"Study what?" said Harry blankly.

Snape's sneer became more pronounced.

"Occlumency, Potter. The magical Defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."

Harry looked around nervously, not making eye contact with Hermione or Severus as his hands clenched on the seat of his chair. Hermione laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"Why do I have to study Occlu — thing?" he blurted out.

"Because the Headmaster thinks it a good idea," said Snape smoothly. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Who's going to be teaching me?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I am," he said. "Miss Granger will be assisting."

Hermione schooled her expression into one of shock. "Me?"

"Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" asked Sirius aggressively. "Why you and a classmate?"

"I suppose because it is a Headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks," said Snape silkily. "I assure you I did not beg for the job." He got to his feet. "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them. Miss Granger, you asked to tag along for extra credit. Given your swottish qualities, not one will doubt that you leapt at the chance to get more points."

His eyes, cold in his tight Professor Snape persona, were cold as they met Hermione's. She looked away, cowed and a bit embarrassed.

He turned to leave, his black traveling cloak billowing behind him.

"Wait a moment," said Sirius, sitting up straighter in his chair.

Snape turned back to face them, sneering. "I am in rather a hurry, Black. Unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time."

"I'll get to the point, then," said Sirius, standing up. He was rather shorter than Snape who, Hermione noticed, balled his fist in the pocket of his cloak over what she was sure was the handle of his wand. "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to."

"How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?"

"Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly.

"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly.

Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table towards Snape, pulling out his wand as he went. Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius's wand-tip to his face. Hermione's heart leapt to her throat, and as her hands fluttered uselessly, her mind speeding ahead.

There were two threats to Harry in the room; both of them were pointed at each other. Harry would get hurt only if he tried to interfere, or if the two idiotic men actually shot a spell with the possibility of rebound of bad aim present. She could either try to diffuse the situation, or get Harry out, and the second didn't seem to be an option.

"Sirius!" said Harry loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him. Hermione dragged him back, toward the door.

"I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better -"  _ That must have been their nickname for him at school, the giant bully. _ Hermione knew her thoughts were unfairly biased, but the tension that fizzled in Severus' body at the name made her rage ignite.

"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take very seriously the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months?"

"Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform… gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"

Sirius raised his wand.

"NO!" Harry yelled, ripping out of Hermione's grasp, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them. "Sirius, don't!"

"Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. Hermione ran to Snape, but paused, hesitant to touch him.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape. His wand arm twitched, and Hermione swung in front of him, shielding Harry from the Potions Master with her own body. The fear that passed over Severus' face in the space of an instant scared her. The fear was gone, and rage replaced it.

"Silly girl-" he hissed. "Do you want to get cursed?"

"Harry - get - out - of - it!" snarled Sirius, pushing him aside with his free hand.

Hermione let out a high pitched growl of frustration. "Put down your wands,  _ both of you! _ " she shouted. "Harry, go over there." She pointed and glared. "Now," she snapped.

"I don't-"

"I don't care," Hermione hissed. "Get. Over. There. Now!" When he still hesitated, she raised an eyebrow.

Sirius looked taken aback that she would talk to Harry that way, but he held his tongue and nodded when Harry looked to him. With a murderous glare at both of them, Harry backed away.

Hermione let out a relieved breath. "Good," she said. "Now, both of you,  _ lower your wands. _ "

Neither man moved. Hermione looked speculatively at Sirius, then at Severus. Odd as it might seem to Harry, it seemed that she would have a better chance with Severus. She steeled herself, then laid a hand on the older man's arm.

The muscle beneath her hand was iron-hard with tension, the wand remaining perfectly still. Hermione put a slight pressure on his forearm, looking up into his face. "Se- Professor Snape."

A second more, and he wrested his arm from her light grasp and sheathed his wand. "Six o'clock, Monday, Potter. Miss Granger, come see me before then."

He swept out the door with a swirl of his black cloak. There was a rush of cold air and snow- then the door slammed shut and Severus was gone.

Mr. Weasley's return an hour later did not do much to lighten the overall mood of the house. Sirius was moody and brooding, Harry was upset with Hermione over both the lessons and the altercation in the kitchen, and Hermione herself was more than a bit irritated.

The first one she had to speak with was Sirius. She cornered the lonely man in the library, where he had disappeared to before dinner.

He was glaring at a painting stuck to the wall, one of the ones they had been unable to remove. For the most part, this one was not troublesome. At least, it had never made rude comments to Hermione within her earshot.

"Are you going to stew in here until dinner?" she asked nonchalantly. "Or are you actually going to spend time with your godson?"

As Sirius turned to face her, Hermione dropped her Glamour. She noted the change in Sirius- his eyes left her face for a brief instant before returning to meet hers.

"Not thirteen and a pain in the arse any more, are you?" he asked grimly. "Dumbledore plan that too?"

Hermione smiled sweetly, leaning against a set of bookshelves. "I'm eighteen but I'm still a pain in the arse. And yeah, he did. But he did it with Harry's best interests at heart." At the look of rage that passed over Sirius' face, Hermione shrugged. "Or at least the best interests of Wizarding England," she hedged.

"I'm worried about him," Sirius said bluntly.

Hermione's hand drifted toward her neck to fiddle with her necklace. "Dumbledore or Harry?"

Sirius swore lightly. "Both, now that you mention it," he said after he was finished. "Harry because of Dumbledore. Is he crazy, putting him to Occlumency lessons with Snape?"

Her immediate reaction was to bristle at the insult to Snape. A trickle of dread ran down Hermione's spine. "No," she said firmly. "Again, general good intentions. Severus Snape is the best Occlumens in the Order. Better than Dumbledore."

Sirius was regarding her with his quicksilver eyes. His were grey too, Hermione noticed, although Severus' eyes were much darker. The eyes of Harry's godfather were no less intense, however. "Better than you?"

"Me?" Hermione asked in mock surprise. "But I'm just your average fifth year." At Sirius' snort, she sighed. "Fine. Slightly above average. Hardly anything to fret over."

Sirius folded his arms, unimpressed. "You should teach him," he told her. "You aren't Dumbledore but you've got to be good if the Order trusts you with as much as they do."

"I'm an Inner Circle member, same as you," Hermione said carefully. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"And if I was probing your mind right now, I'm sure that would be exactly what I'd see," said Sirius. The tension was still present in his neck, at his jaw. "You think that after a year of having you in class, Remus doesn't recognize your handwriting on two thirds of the reports that we get on Death Eater movements and spy reports?" He cocked his head. Leaning against a bookcase of his own, long legs sprawled before him with the effortless grace of the aristocracy, Sirius was the picture of a cocky young thing. But there was something off about it all. Although he held himself with grace and his face was much changed from the skeleton that had attacked her in her third year, Sirius still held traces of the wildness and mind-numbing fear of Azkaban.

Her first instinct was to freeze like a startled deer, to panic. Hermione quelled her fear, pushing it down in her mind and out of sight.  _ He's canny. Use the truth, he'd feel a lie. _ "I have exceptional handwriting. The Headmaster likes me to copy some reports-"

"Don't bullshit me, Hermione," said Sirius roughly, angrily. "You're more important than you, or Snape or Dumbledore lets on. And you are the Order member closest to Harry."

_ Well then. _ She stood up straight and started moving toward Sirius. "Perhaps. Either way, I know that Harry needs you right now and you are here, talking with me in a library." When Sirius' face didn't soften, Hermione sighed. "I'll be at all the lessons. I'll look out for him, okay?"

Sirius examined her for a long moment. "I was blinded," he said after a moment.

"Sorry?" Hermione asked. The softness of his tone, the sudden guilt on his features, the way his eyes focused completely on hers disarmed her.

The corner of his mouth twisted up in a wry smile. "Dumbledore told me that we were training you to protect Harry and I never even considered it before saying yes. I was thinking of Harry, and not of you."

"By the time you came into the picture I was already what I am," Hermione told him. Unease was creeping across her skin.

"That's no excuse," Sirius murmured. "We- all of us adults who should have known better- have no excuse. You should be like them."

"I don't want to be like them," Hermione snapped. "I'm doing something none of you could have done. You need someone to be with him constantly, you need someone to guard his back, to do whatever is necessary."

That wry smile was mocking her. "And you think that I wouldn't give up anything for my godson?" asked Sirius. "For James' boy? For Lily's son?"

Bitterness rose in Hermione. "That's exactly why," she said waspishly. "You still think that Harry is James. You do what you do for his parents. You don't know Harry himself. I do what I do- what I've done- for Harry. Not because of some twisted regret or love of his parents, but because I know Harry and I would do anything for  _ him _ and not for some image of him."

The two of them- guardian and guardian- stood there for a moment longer, each refusing to look away.

"Go to your godson," Hermione said, at last, turning away with a haughty air, giving Sirius the clear message that she had looked and found him wanting. "I'll talk to him later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 24. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I appreciate all of the comments and kudos!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! Hope everyone is doing well and staying safe. 
> 
> Interesting detail in this chapter - in the books, Snape is often described as tracing his lips with a finger. Odd habit, but there we go.

**_Chapter 25_ **

After a rather disastrous trip on the Knight Bus, the school-aged children made their way up to the castle from Hogsmeade village. There had been a general opinion with the Order that they ought to be protected by an Order member or two, but they had been assured that Hermione was more than enough protection.

Fred and George were walking a bit ahead, deep in discussion. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were walking in a sort of clump, although Harry was still ignoring Hermione. His anger was palatable and also noticed by the two siblings.

She hadn't gotten the opportunity to speak with Harry the day before, and it needed to be done sooner rather than later. Hermione tapped Ginny's wrist and tilted her head meaningfully; the younger girl caught on after a moment and grabbed her brother's arm, dragging him up with her on the excuse that they needed to ask the twins something.

Before Harry could follow, Hermione linked her arm through his, despite the resistance, and slowed her pace, forcing him to slow as well. "We need to talk," she said.

"No, we don't," Harry said coldly. As coldly as he could, anyway. From Severus, she had heard dry snow-swept by ice winds in the mountains, rocky tundras, isolated beaches covered in damp mists. From Harry, cold was a light breeze that gave one goosebumps on a day that hadn't quite decided if it was fall or summer. He had too much passion to be distant.

_ All of Severus' passion was hidden behind a wall after all and it had taken her years to see a glimpse of it but it was there, oh, it was there she could feel it as his tongue met hers and his arms held her firmly. _

"Codswallop," Hermione said flippantly. "Now tell me why you're upset so that I can lay to rest any concerns you might have."

He glowered at her for a moment, then conceded. "Why are you going to be helping Snape teach me?"

"Simple," said Hermione. "I know Occlumency and I'm quite good at it."

There was no little shock in Harry's face. "But Remus said it was one of the hardest things to learn in the Wizarding World!"

Hermione pinned him down with a look. "It is." When Harry opened his mouth to protest, she raised an eyebrow and continued. "I had a natural talent, I suppose. And I worked at it. Especially after what happened in the graveyard- Voldemort looked through my  _ mind, _ Harry."

When he looked away from her, she didn't stop speaking, but she did place a gloved hand on his arm. "To have someone root through your mind is a terribly intimate thing, Harry. If they're good at it, you won't feel anything but a ruffle, a sense that something isn't quite right. Legilimency requires eye contact, so you know the person in front of you is looking into your eyes and learning all sorts of things about you, that they are thinking about you. You just don't know exactly what it is that they're doing. But when someone is purposefully doing it, when they are rifling through your mind and your memories and your thoughts with no discrimination, it is  _ painful _ . Not because your body is in physical pain- although sometimes that does happen and nosebleeds are not uncommon- but because your soul is being laid bare to a set of human eyes."

"So Snape taught you?" Harry asked, some of the sullenness gone from his voice.

Hermione sighed. "Professor Snape, Harry. Not exactly. I owled Professor Dumbledore, asking for some lessons, and while he did give me a few tips, he was too busy to do much. He did ask Professor Snape to give me a few pointers and test my defenses. Anyway, I have a good idea of what we're doing. And if I can help, and if someone can be there to make sure you and Professor Snape don't kill each other, what's the harm?"

"You seemed really familiar with him," Harry said in a quiet voice, eyes flicking to Ron and Ginny where the pair was walking up ahead. "Snape- Professor Snape, I mean. You  _ touched _ him."

Mentally, she cursed. She had been hoping that Harry had been too mad to notice much about that. "It was him or Sirius and honestly, I felt like I had a better chance of getting through to Professor Snape," Hermione admitted. "Sirius can be rash sometimes. I didn't want to get cursed. And last time I tried to stop him from doing something..." she let her voice trail off. Harry would remember the Shrieking Shack, and how Sirius had strangled her and punched her in the face.

She saw the recognition in his eyes. "Oh, yeah," he said a bit sheepishly. "So we'll go to see him tomorrow? For the first lesson?"

"Yes, Harry," answered Hermione. "And tonight, before we go to bed, we can talk more and do some exercises so you'll be prepared for tomorrow."

She smiled at him, and reluctantly he returned it. "Yeah. Sounds good." She patted his arm once then let him go, walking a bit faster to catch up with Ron and Ginny.

* * *

"Breathe in," said Hermione in her most calming voice. "Five, six, seven. Now breathe out." She was sitting cross-legged on Harry's four-poster, across from the Boy-Who-Lived who was mirroring her posture. He was squinting slightly to focus on her, as his glasses were folded nearly on his bedside table. "Close your eyes, Harry. Six, seven. Now in. Two, three, four, five six, seven... and out."

His thin chest rose and fell with her counts. She did the seven-count again for him, softening her voice with each number. Another set of seven, and she hoped he'd keep the breathing pattern on his own.

The sounds of her counting and his breathing were the only noises in the room. Hermione had given Ron strict instructions not to let any of the boys in, no matter what they said or whined about. It had been fine by them- they were not overly eager to be in a bedroom with Harry again.

Fluttering behind Harry's lids slowed, and then stopped. Finally, he was calm. "Clear your mind," Hermione said slowly. "Think of nothing at all."

Even as she said it, she had the regretful inkling of what would happen. As soon as she gave the order to clear his mind, Harry's head would suddenly be full of thoughts. The same thing had happened to her the first time Severus had given the same order.

She resumed her counting, waiting for Harry's breathing to fall into rhythm again. They practiced for another fifteen minutes, but Hermione called it a night when Harry's breathing began to slow beyond her count. He was falling asleep- but at least he was falling asleep with a clear mind. She smiled softly and gently pushed him back into the bed. It was the work of a moment to spell off his shoes and gently pull his glasses off his nose.

"G'night, 'Mione," he mumbled.

She brushed a hand over his hair. "Goodnight, Harry."

Ghosting into the hall, she nodded at Ron, Dean, and Neville where they sat near the fire. "He's sleeping. Go in, but be quiet."

"Yes, ma'am," Ron mumbled.

She glared at him frostily. "Goodnight, Ronald."

Her bed beckoned, but she denied it in favor of going to see Severus. Shrugging off her robes, she changed into the clothes she normally wore to practice fighting with him. They made her feel more adult than the schoolgirl garb she normally wore, the pleated skirt and the sweater and the student robe with the Gryffindor patch. She didn't want to go before Severus dressed like that, like the Hermione Granger everyone else saw. That girl was the one who's name dropped casually, abbreviated, from the lips of Harry or Ron.

The Hermione that she felt like was the one who Severus saw, the essence of the word he caressed slowly with his voice, that lovely voice that always said her name with a solemnity that constantly reminded her that they were not only equals but friends despite all the odds. That Hermione wore shirts that hugged her curves and pants that didn't hinder her movement. She wore her hair pulled back from her face, she wore her lethality like a queen wore majesty- as if it was a birthright and nothing more.

Sometimes she longed to act as she felt, to dress as she felt, to wind a hand in Snape's hair and drag his mouth down to hers. The urge was always there, that pulsing wanting sensation that used to be in her rib cage but that was migrating further and further down until it was beating deep in her belly.

The halls of Hogwarts were quiet, empty. The old castle had twists and turns like no other, fantastic architecture, and strange artwork that gave an aura of mysteriousness, especially late at night. There were carvings, especially in the sections of the castle that were made with wood, that moved, fauns twisting over one another to make lewd gestures as nymphs were chased by the forever lonely Pan, running after them with his pipes at his side or at his lips.

Severus wasn't in his office, as she would have expected. There was a note on his desk, however, that didn't have any words, just a picture. He had drawn a teapot in black ink, the lines sure and smooth.

_ Tea, _ thought Hermione, a slow smile spreading across her face.  _ But- this stands for something more. Tea and a long talk, I think. A revealing talk. Like... like the time I asked him about his black teapot. Strange. I never knew he liked drawing. _

There was so much she did know about him and so much that she had no idea about either. Like she knew he traced his lips with his index finger when he was trying to give a very deliberate speech, or how he actually liked it when she was impertinent. But she hadn't known that he liked drawing, or that he was good at it for that matter. She folded up the picture and tucked it into her pocket.

Still disguised, she slipped into his false chambers, removing the Disillusionment before entering his real set of rooms. He was there, only half facing her from his desk. He didn't smile when he saw her, or give any sign at all really that he was glad that she was there.

Or so Hermione thought, anyway. She didn't catch the pleased look that swept across his face when he tilted his hair so that it obscured the half-smile from view.

"Hullo," she said, uncertainty seizing her and leaving her mouth without the words she had planned.

He set his quill in the inkwell, turning in his chair to regard her with eloquent eyes. The shadows in the room deepened the lines on his face, his nose thrusting a cruel shadow on his cheek, his brows leaving his eyes to glitter in the dark. Hermione caught herself gazing at his lips, and forcefully turned her gaze to those eyes.

She was trembling. It infuriated her; this wasn't the image she wanted to present to him, the trembling and shy virgin who was afraid of looking him in the eye. She bit down harshly on her lip, drawing blood. It brought her back to herself, brought her back to calmness.

"Good evening," he responded at last. "Tea?"

Something like relief ran through her, suffusing warmth down her spine. "Please," she said gratefully. "Would you like me to start it?"

He stood, his movements not as fluid as they normally were. Perhaps he was as discomfited by it all as she was. "No, I'll prepare it."

Left to her own devices, for the time being at least, Hermione padded through his room until she reached the bookcase, mirroring her first time in Severus' home of sorts. Again, she trailed her fingers just over the spines of the books, reading their titles with a quiver of nostalgia.

A clinking sound from the kitchenette told her that Severus would be entering the sitting room momentarily; she snatched her hand away guiltily and sat in the armchair that had been labelled (perhaps permanently?) as hers. She had been correct. Severus and a tray emerged from the doorway, small spirals of steam rising from two mugs. He set it down on the coffee table, handing her one and taking the other mug for himself.

Desperate to keep some semblance of normalcy, Hermione wrapped her fingers around her mug and spoke. "What is the Dark Lord planning? Is the Azkaban breakout nearly finalized?"

Severus nodded, his face darkening a shade as he considered his second master. "Yes. By Tuesday morning Bellatrix Lestrange will be free."

"And will you be going with them?" Hermione asked, sipping the tea to dislodge the blockage in her throat at the thought of Severus flying into Azkaban with Aurors on high alert. "On Monday night?"

His lip curled in a bitter mockery of a smirk. "No. The Dark Lord understands that on Monday night I will be rifling through Potter's mind and wishes me to be completely focused on that task."

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes focused on a spot beside Severus' head as she considered the implications of that statement. "The Dark Lord knows about Harry's Occlumency lessons?"

"Of course," snapped Severus. "As soon as Dumbledore proposed them I had to let him know. He's been trying to enter Potter's mind every night since July. If he sees something resembling defenses in there, he'll want to know why."

She flapped a hand at him absentmindedly. "Yes, yes, Severus, but what does he expect you'll see? It's not like Harry will be thinking about top-secret things or really anything of relevance."

Severus sighed. "On the contrary. The Dark Lord desires that I learn more of Potter's secrets, provoke him into anger and see what makes him angry, what memories are too precious to him. He wants to know Potter's weak spots, the holes in his defenses."

"And I suppose he also wants you to broaden those holes," Hermione concluded grimly. "To make him go to bed angry and upset and with a tired mind, ripe for dreams about mysterious hallways."

"That will isolate him from his peers by suggesting he have remedial Potions, and tarnish his reputation even farther," Severus continued. "And Potter's already prone enough to teenage angst as it is, and this should worsen it. If all was to go to the Dark Lord's plan."

He was tracing his lips with his finger as he talked, Hermione realized, and it was terribly distracting. "Then we'll have to make sure that doesn't happen," Hermione said firmly. "I'll be there- I'm sure the Dark Lord didn't account for that."

The bitter curl of his mouth smoothed out, turned wry rather than cruel. "Indeed."

They were quiet for a time, each drinking slowly and alternating their gazes between the fireplace and each other. The tea was warm and good, nearly drugging. The cold of the dungeons was offset by the fire, and the comforting presence of Severus was only feet away.

She wondered if he was going to say something, or if he was waiting for her to say something. Should she? Were they going to ignore the kisses, or were they going to talk about it? The agonizing memory of the darkened training room, of Severus telling her that it was too dangerous, returned, unsettling Hermione. The last thing she wanted was to put him in danger.

"You're wearing it." The statement puzzled her for a moment; she glanced at his face and noticed that his gaze was not on her face, but slightly below. Her throat.

Self-consciously she raised her hand to her throat, touching the small pearl there. "It's lovely," she rasped, throat suddenly tight. "Beautiful, Severus. Thank you."

He didn't color, but he did look away. "It suits you."

Her mug was empty. She set it on the table, then drew her legs up into her chair so she could curl into herself. "Why did you kiss me?"

"I told you not to speak of it." Severus' words were clipped, clinical.  _ No, you told me you didn't know why. _

"No," Hermione stood up, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Not going to cut it, Severus. The first time, perhaps, I can see. But you kissed me,  _ again _ , on Christmas. After saying it was too dangerous, after making a fuss about me being your student and you being my teacher-"

"All of those points are true," snapped Severus, also standing.

She raised an eyebrow at him. The fact that he was more than a foot taller than her did not matter, no, it was the power of her  _ anger _ at not seeing him for days then having him  _ kiss _ her that made her immune to the slight intimidation that he may have been trying to use. "That's not an excuse, Severus." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Of all the things you are, the last is a coward. Tell me why!"

The power of words was not new to Hermione; she knew well that often the right word could provoke or calm or move someone to tears. But she had not expected this, the rage and  _ fury _ that took Severus' face as soon as she said the word 'coward.'

"What do you want to hear?" he hissed at her. "That the first time I was so overcome by lust for my  _ student  _ that I couldn't help but trap her against a wall and put my mouth all over her? That I lost my self control- the self control that keeps me alive at the Dark Lord's side- over a chit of eighteen? That I saw you standing there in the kitchen of a man I hate and I couldn't stop myself from  _ wanting _ you, a girl nearly half my age?" He was shouting by the end, the cold hardness of his usual exterior gone.

"Yes!" she shouted back. "That's a thousand times better than thinking that it meant nothing or-"

He didn't bear down on her as much as draw himself to his full height. "Why would I risk my life and yours on something that meant nothing?"

That rage that was in him was in her too. "You could have been using me!" yelled Hermione. "If the Dark Lord ordered you to-"

"You trust me that little?" His interruption was quieter, colder. "You think that I would- that I would seduce you on the orders of- of  _ him? _ "

If she hadn't known him so well she wouldn't have seen the hurt that had taken the place of the anger, the coldness that had taken over the heat of whatever passion he had just shown her. "That's the point," she said, her voice more normal again. "I didn't  _ know _ , Severus. I had never had any _ hint _ that you wanted me the same way that I-" She swallowed harshly.

The curl was back in his lip, the sneer that was waiting to unleash his vitriol onto her. "Go on," he prompted, dangerously quiet. "Don't stop now, say whatever it was that made you suspect me."

There was the urge to look away from him, to give up or give in and slink away, to go to the chilly corridors and escape from the cold exuding this man. But she couldn't, she couldn't do that to Severus. She couldn't do it to herself either; there was a reason the Sorting Hat had put her in Gryffindor and this inner bravery that she was drawing upon now was it.

"I didn't know that you wanted me the same way that I wanted you," she said quietly, holding his eyes with hers. "Severus- I thought that I was imagining things, honestly. It seemed so- so unreal. So unimaginable."

She moved toward him like one moves toward a small animal or a bird: slowly, as not to send it scampering off. Instinctively she knew that the moment was crucial, that every muscle in Severus' body was tense and poised to run. Carefully, she laid a hand on his chest, closing her eyes at the slow and steady thumping of his heart.

His hand came up and covered hers. "I shouldn't have kissed you." She could feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest.

"It doesn't matter whether or not you should have or shouldn't have," she said, hoping that it was only her surety and not her desperation that was making her voice crack. "You did, Severus. And it wasn't just you, I kissed you back. I didn't pull away. I wanted you to kiss me."

He bent his head, pressing his nose to her hair. Hermione moved closer, wrapping her arms around him. "I never meant for this to happen," he said again, hoarsely. "Hermione, I didn't want to do this to you."

_ He's acting like he's the only one to blame here, _ Hermione realized.  _ He's the one who kissed me; I've never kissed him. He hasn't gotten it yet, that I want him just as badly- maybe even more- than he wants me.  _ From there it was the most logical thing to slide her hand from his chest to the skin of his face, rough and slightly prickly with shadow under her palm, and stretch to kiss him, to touch her lips to his so gently it made her want to cry.

His lips remained passive under hers, even as she held his face- feeling the harsh line of his jaw under her hands- and tried to mimic what he had done to her earlier. A tear did fall, slipping from her face to stain his. She pulled away, looking at him. His grey eyes were as open as she had ever seen them, full of the same raw pain and want she felt spilling from her own.

"Please, Severus," she said- she begged. "Please."

There was acquiescence as he closed his eyes and shifted to ease her way. She kissed him again, more tears falling as he opened his mouth to hers and allowed her to gently kiss him. Even as she did so, as she could taste the loss, the knowledge that he was giving into her now but for the last time. He didn't seem to mind that she really had no idea what she was doing, that she was wetting his face with her tears, that she was clutching him. She could feel his warmth through the thin white shirt. His arms were so strong, his lanky body hard against hers.

When she finally pulled away, lowering herself back down on flat feet, she wanted to bury her head in her hands and just let the tears continue. Instead, she looked up at him, her hands still gently holding his face and neck so he was looking at her.

"Don't cry, Hermione," said Severus, using his thumbs to brush away the tears. "Listen to me." Seriousness overcame him, casting his features into brutal severity.

She nodded.

"We- whatever we have here- cannot continue." He paused, then went on. "It doesn't matter what our feelings for each other are, not at a time like this. When I said that it was too dangerous, I meant it. We have priorities right now, things that are more important than- than this."

It went against everything she felt, the heat that was spreading from deep in her belly to tingle in her breasts, but she drew in a shuddering breath and nodded agreement. "I know. I know."

His breath caught as she slid her hands down his neck to his shoulders. "But- Hermione- we need to work together. These last weeks have been impossible." He didn't laugh humorlessly or make a groan or any other sound- but she knew  _ exactly _ how he felt, like he was falling endlessly because the clouds that had supported his weight before had suddenly dissipated. Somehow over the years, they had grown together like two trees who started out separate but allowed the elements to wind their trunks together until they were hopelessly entangled, hopelessly dependent upon each other.

"We can do this," she told him, blinking harshly. "We can make it work. Hold off on the kissing and such until after. Work together as normal and then when everything is over and he's gone we can sort it all out."

The shoulders under her hands tensed and Severus looked far away for a moment.  _ That's right, _ Hermione remembered.  _ He doesn't expect to make it out alive. _

She rubbed his shoulders in a soothing motion. "Severus, we can make it work. I- we can be perfectly platonic. No more kissing, or touching, or- we'll do everything the way we should."

His eyes were still closed. "I don't want to lose you." The words spilt out in a stream that she could barely decipher, spoken under his breath. It was as close to a declaration of love that she was likely to get from him now and Hermione understood it perfectly.

"We'll make it work," she said, more to herself than Severus. "No more breaks in self-control, right?"

He swallowed hard and opened his eyes. "One more," he rasped. "And then- and then we'll control ourselves. Until the end of this mess."

It wasn't clear this time who started the kiss or if they just moved together as one. All Hermione knew was that Severus was kissing her fiercely, commandingly, his passion (or lust) evident in the way he was holding her to him, taking her mouth ruthlessly, cradling her head with one large hand with fingers threaded through her hair.

A sound like a groan ripped itself from his throat, and this time Hermione mimicked what he had done the first time they had kissed; she moved her lips from his to the beautiful line of his jaw, flicking her tongue against the rasp of roughness before tilting her head to get to the soft underside of his jaw, suckling lightly not to leave a noticeable mark.

This time it was Severus' voice- that deep silky voice that made her insides clench- that groaned her name. "Hermione."

And this time it was her who pulled away, to just inside the circle of his arms. "And now..."

"And now we say goodnight," said Severus. That intense focusing of his features was back, the way he was looking at her ( _ the way a man looks at a woman) _ turning those inside parts of her into somersaulting twists.

Hermione swallowed hard. "Goodnight," she said quietly, wishing that it didn't sound so close to 'goodbye.'

His large hand smoothed over her cheek, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "Goodnight," he responded.

There was a moment when they just met each others' eyes, taking peace from the gaze and heat from the other’s body.

Gently he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Go," he said in a tone so low and quiet it could have been a rumbling. "My self control is terribly weak around you."

She trailed her fingertips down his chest until she reached his belt. "Okay," she murmured. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione left him in his rooms, the fire flickering behind him and throwing his shadow on the wall lined with bookcases. At last, there was a peace of sorts; a knowledge that something would be there in the future and they had just promised that to each other.

* * *

As soon as she was gone, Severus collapsed into a chair and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose fiercely.

There was too much going on in the country, in the war, for his thoughts to be occupied by a girl. A woman. Hermione Granger didn't kiss him as if she was a girl. It was his own insistence that it was wrong and his own attempts to separate Hermione Granger from the idea of  _ woman _ that kept him calling her a girl in his own mind. There had been that desperate need to keep the two separate, to keep Hermione Granger from being synonymous with desire, for so long that it felt unbearably difficult to consider her in this new context.

And yet it should not have been this difficult for him, because it had been him, it had been Severus, who had broken the barriers he had set in place, that society had set in place. He had been the one to kiss her, he had been the one to change the relationship between them forever.

The first kiss he had seen as a mistake. As soon as he had realized what he had done, Severus had sworn that it would never happen again, that he would guard himself against all possible recursions. But then- then, in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place he had seen Hermione there.

There, with her hair unbound and her skin almost translucent in the night. Barefoot, the outlines of her breasts tipped in sharp points that stretched the thin cotton of her sleeping shirt, Hermione had been just as glorious as she had appeared to him in the heat of the fight, with the heat of victory in the bared set of her teeth. There had been a different kind of beauty to her in the kitchen, in the wild and messy hair and free breasts and bare feet.

_ What might it be like to wake up to find a Hermione with bare feet and messy hair and her breasts free under her shirt in a kitchen, in his kitchen? _

She had been so vulnerable, so strong, so scared, and yet so confident also. She had no idea what was going on in his head, but was sure enough of him to approach, to give him a gift, to let him kiss her. The shifts between uncertainty and anger had been enough to move him to do what he had sworn not to do.

The first time there had been nothing on the earth that could have stopped him from kissing her; the second it was a choice made of his own free will as all rational thought was thrown to the side. There was only the wish to taste Hermione, to prove to her that he was not the cold-hearted bastard she clearly thought him, that she was more than just a person to him that she was everything he was living for now as his masters closed their grip on him and the stakes in the war rose higher and higher.

He couldn't stand to see her cry.

That had been shown tonight, how he couldn't resist Hermione's tears and the sound of her voice- pleading but not broken, no far from it- begging him to kiss her back, to prove to her again that he cared. Here he was, laughable, the man all of Hogwarts (and the Death Eaters and the Order) said had no heart, his resolve broken by Hermione Granger's tears.

He had seen her cry before, but not because of him. He might have been able to stand it if he had not been the one to cause them, the tears, but he had been the cause and Severus would do anything in his power to make them stop.

But what were his feelings for Hermione, his intentions toward her? He kissed her like he knew what he wanted but he really had no idea.

Severus glanced at the half-obscured stand covered in decanters and flacks of dangerously seductive liquid. He was sorely tempted to pour himself a drink, to welcome the haze that came with alcohol and the endorphins released by it.

_ Then you wouldn't be able to taste Hermione on your lips anymore. _

He looked away from the liquor and back at the fireplace.

Who was Hermione to him? It was strange enough that he called her by her first name, that he so fiercely did not want to probe himself and his motives concerning her. The most obvious answer, the overarching one was that she was important. Maybe most important.

He had been furious, hurt, terrified when she had avoided him after his revelation about Lily Potter and everything that she had meant to him. The thought of Hermione not being the person he had made her out to be, the kind and selfless and understanding woman who would accept anything and everything about him had infuriated him. Severus knew it was unreasonable but he had  _ expected _ something from her and for the first time she had not met his expectations.

Hermione was human. Who had known? He had certainly made her out as more than that in his head.

And just when he had thought that he had been fucking disillusioned, that the reminder that she was just as vapid and normal as every other eighteen-year-old witch had sunken the fuck in, she shattered it again.

_ She had been upset because she had thought he was still in love with Lily Potter. _

Not because the thought of Severus having feelings for someone had been too strange, not because she had thought his dedication creepy or wrong, but because she had fled in the face of the truth, but because she had thought he loved- still loved- Lily. She was naïve enough to believe that first love was true love and that it could last forever. He hadn't loved Lily, he had been infatuated with the idea of her. The same thing had almost happened with Hermione.

But it had appeared that even as his ideal had been broken the truth had emerged as more than he could have imagined.

Hermione wasn't perfect, she wasn't the same type of girl that Lily Evans had been. She was real, she was unsure of herself, but she trusted Severus Snape enough to let him in and care about him and- maybe- care about him in a deeper way. Love him, in her way.

Trust him enough to let him kiss her. To kiss him back. To hold his face and press her lips to his as tears ran down her face.

He knew that he was an ungrateful bastard who was too smart for his own good and that he was in the very dangerous position of playing both sides of a very dangerous game. The two greatest wizards in the world were gearing up for a fight and getting their information from one source- him. He lied for a living (literally he lied in order to live, for the act of living he lied and lied and lied until he didn't know what his own thoughts were they were buried so deep under Occlumency shields and barriers and walls he didn't know who Severus was anymore only that Severus knew that Hermione was important and sometimes when he had lost himself he could follow that thread (that Hermione was important Hermione was important Hermione important Hermione important) back to his memories of Hermione, Hermione laughing and Hermione talking and arguing with him and in a flash, he could remember who Severus was (he was that man who made her laugh and who made her turn red and who made her smile by giving her books) and he could breathe again, secure in his own skin).

Hermione was too important for him to let her go.

But she was also too important to the war for him to- keep her wasn't the right phrasing, she- and he- were too important to be distracted. There was  _ too much at stake _ there was no question about that. She understood it, he understood it. Their entire lives- the very circumstances that had thrown them together until an eighteen-year-old girl and a man well into his thirties were unable to manage well without each other- had been shaped by the need to  _ win the war _ to  _ protect Harry Potter _ to end it all with no regards to the cost to themselves.

Cost. He had thought that paying more of himself, that giving more of himself (not taking into account he had precious little left to give) was impossible. But he had given, he had given Hermione time and training and attention and she had given him the same. She had spent time with him and admired him and listened to and learned from him, and she had taken all of that and turned it into affection, into genuine friendship, where she didn't want to hurt him and she realized that sometimes he was mean and it was not her fault. She put up with him, but it was more than that. She seemed to actually  _ enjoy _ his company. It was in the way her entire body was relaxed in his rooms, the way that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on his couch or tease him gently.

She was comfortable enough not to notice when her shirt rode up and a line of pale skin was visible and starkly outlined by dark pants and red shirt. His eyes had been drawn to that strip of white- marred only by a freckle- and for a moment his thoughts had been crowded with her hipbone and the shadow it cast on the freckle and the way that skin looked beautifully smooth and how he  _ knew _ how it would taste but at the same time that knowledge was only in his mind and he also knew that it would be better than he could have imagined. But if anything Hermione was good at compartmentalization and he shoved those thoughts down with all the other inappropriate thoughts about Hermione.

Oh, that compartment in his head was getting more and more crowded, memories of more white skin or heaving breasts or wet open lips shifting inside their walls waiting for a time when he was unprepared or undefended to strike and cloud his mind. He was undeniably attracted to her- he had realized that embarrassingly early even if he refused to acknowledge it. He had refused to imagine kissing her, he had refused to let the unbidden dreams of a writhing shadowy shape with thick curly hair and burning eyes see the light of day. But now, now that he  _ knew _ what it was like to kiss Hermione, now that he  _ knew _ exactly how their bodies fit together and how her breasts felt pressed against his chest and how small her hands were and how bold- yes, he desired her. It felt ignoble to admit to even himself that he was there and  _ wanting _ a girl so desperately that he was hardening in his pants just thinking about it. Severus was supposed to be stronger than that, better than that.

So that answered his earlier question. Hermione was important, Hermione was precious. He was bound to her now, he answered to her call, a decision made unconsciously and long ago now sealed with a kiss.

He had told her that they would wait, that the only way that anything could ever happen was if the Dark Lord was dead and Harry Potter victorious- and that was true. But how he wanted it to be different, how he wanted to be able to sort out all of this with Hermione in his arms instead of wandering the corridors of Hogwarts with tear tracks still faintly visible on her cheeks.

But he had been correct, entirely so when he said they would wait. The Dark Lord would become more distrustful of Severus as his regime started to come apart. As the Order would come closer and closer to victory, Severus' mind would be searched more and more thoroughly by the notoriously paranoid Dark Lord. There could be no traces of Hermione there, nothing that would alert him to his weak spot.

The Dark Lord was vindictive, and if he began to suspect Severus, Hermione would make a fine warning, and he couldn't let that happen.

He would protect her at all costs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 25. 
> 
> And so our two lovebirds get closer and closer... Occlumency lesson will come on Wednesday!
> 
> Loving all the comments and kudos. If you want more content before Wednesday, check out my one shots!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, Sorasradust! Hope you enjoy.

_**Chapter 26** _

The lessons would be beginning soon. Severus had taken painstaking measures to be sure his office was perfect- the jars of various slimy and slowly decomposing potions ingredients were arranged in order of repulsiveness, the lights were dim, and the eerie blue glow of the Pensieve was creating an atmosphere of gloom. Severus smirked. He needed the boy to feel as uncomfortable as possible, and playing the typical villain was the best way to do that.

He did take a perverse kind of pleasure in aggravating Potter's son. The boy was annoying, sniveling, unremarkable, a miserable excuse for a savior. The pains he put Hermione through- he could hate the boy for that alone, without all the history being the disgusting tangle of black hair and the cocky way he flew. It was a gut-filling satisfaction every time the boy's control broke, every time he gave into anger rather than keeping a cool head.

_ Yes, _ Severus could say to himself.  _ Yes, this is the savior Dumbledore has put all our hopes on. James Potter's idiot son, who I will probably die to protect. Yes, Lily, this is what my promise to you has earned me. Aren't you proud? This is what will face the Dark Lord. _

And then he could sink into despondence, misery, self-righteous knowledge that he could turn his back on the boy and support the Dark Side fully, and he was not going to do so, no matter that it would double his chances of survival. He had an easy way out, he could kill the boy with two words and go to the Dark Lord's side triumphant to have every honor possible bestowed upon him. He could go over to the side of the most likely victors, he could follow every Slytherin instinct in his body telling him that he had approximately a 0.6% chance of living through the war if he continued to support this hotheaded joke.

That he could face that side of himself every day and turn it away gave him a bitter kind of pleasure. He would truly be sacrificing himself to the cause. No one would be able to say that he had not been in it wholeheartedly- he would face his death knowing it would probably not do a whole lot of a good but he had done it for the 'right' reasons.

Strange, then, how he didn't think that way so much anymore. There was no doubt in his mind that Potter was a pathetic excuse for a hero. But... there was something more than a promise to a woman fourteen years dead that kept his face turned to the light.

A knock at the door turned his attention away from introspection and toward the two people he could sense behind the door. "Enter," he called, keeping his voice low and sinister.

Hermione entered first, Harry trailing in behind her. He looked stiffly angry, as if Hermione had just given him a good batch of warnings he had no intention of following

"Shut the door behind you, Potter." When the boy turned to do as he was told, Hermione gave him a look that said  _ behave. _ He smirked.

When he turned back into the room, Snape had moved into the light and was pointing silently at the chair opposite his desk that Hermione was not occupying. Harry sat down and so did Snape, his cold black eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Harry, dislike etched in every line of his face.

"Well, Potter, you know why you are here," he said. "The Headmaster has asked me- and Miss Granger- to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than at Potions."

"Right," said Harry tersely.

"This may not be an ordinary class, Potter," said Snape, his eyes narrowed malevolently, "but I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me 'sir' or 'professor' at all times."

"Yes… sir," said Harry.

Snape continued to survey him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then said, "Now, Occlumency. As I told you back in your dear godfather's kitchen, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence."

"And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?" said Harry, looking directly into Snape's eyes and wondering whether Snape would answer.

Snape looked back at him for a moment and then said contemptuously, "Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency -"

Hermione interrupted before Harry could ask his question. "That's the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind, Harry."

"He can read minds?" said Harry quickly, his worst fears confirmed.

"You have no subtlety, Potter," said Snape, his dark eyes glittering. "You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker. And if I require your aid, Miss Granger, I will ask for it."

Snape paused for a moment, apparently to savor the pleasure of insulting Harry, before continuing. "Only Muggles talk of 'mind-reading'. The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter - or at least, most minds are." He smirked. "It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so can utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."

"So he could know what we're thinking right now? Sir?" He seemed agitated, glancing at Hermione and the door. Hermione sighed but allowed Severus to continue to speak.

"The Dark Lord is at a considerable distance and the walls and grounds of Hogwarts are guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safety of those who dwell within them," said Snape. "Time and space matter in magic, Potter. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency."

"Well then, why do I have to learn Occlumency?" He sounded petulant, like a child who didn't want to go to school.

Snape eyed Harry, tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger as he did so. "The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter. The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord. The evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable - when you are asleep, for instance - you are sharing the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. The Headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this to continue. He wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Dark Lord."

"But why does Professor Dumbledore want to stop it?" he asked abruptly. "I don't like it much, but it's been useful, hasn't it? I mean… I saw that snake attack Mr. Weasley and if I hadn't, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to save him, would he? Sir?"

_ No, you idiot. We have people watching there. And Professor Dumbledore didn't save him, my antivenin did. All the old goat did was berate Hermione for going above and beyond and leaving your sorry arse alone for one moment. _

Snape stared at Harry for a few moments, still tracing his mouth with his finger. He moved his eyes to Hermione and swallowed hard. Her eyes were fixed upon his mouth. He quickly lowered his hand, and she looked away guiltily. He filed that away to consider later.

When he spoke again, it was slowly and deliberately, as though he weighed every word. "It appears that the Dark Lord has been unaware of the connection between you and himself until very recently. Up till now it seems that you have been experiencing his emotions, and sharing his thoughts, without his being any the wiser. However, the vision you had shortly before Christmas-"

"The one with the snake and Mr. Weasley?" Impertinent _ boy. _

"Do not interrupt me, Potter," said Snape in a dangerous voice. "As I was saying, the vision you had shortly before Christmas represented such a powerful incursion upon the Dark Lord's thoughts -"

"I saw inside the snake's head, not his!"  _ So that means Dumbledore was right about the snake. Damn it. _

"I thought I just told you not to interrupt me, Potter?" he asked dangerously.

Hermione laid a hand on Harry's arm. "Stop it," she hissed.

But Harry did not care if Snape was angry; at last, he seemed to be getting to the bottom of this business; he had moved forwards in his chair so that, without realizing it, he was perched on the very edge, tense as though poised for flight. "How come I saw through the snake’s eyes if it's Voldemort's thoughts I'm sharing?"

The familiar tremor ran through his left arm, sparking painfully."Do not say the Dark Lord's name!" spat Snape.

There was a nasty silence. They glared at each other across the Pensieve. Hermione was biting her lip, looking between the two warily. She seemed to realize it was a power struggle between man and boy, and that it was not her place to get involved. Nonetheless, she looked torn at the very least.

"Professor Dumbledore says his name," said Harry quietly.

"Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard," Snape muttered. "While he may feel secure enough to use the name… the rest of us…" He looked down to realize he was rubbing his left arm, where the Dark Mark was burned into his skin.

"I just wanted to know," Harry began again, forcing his voice back to politeness, "why -"

"You seem to have visited the snake's mind because that was where the Dark Lord was at that particular moment," snarled Snape. "He was possessing the snake at the time and so you dreamed you were inside it, too." _ Obvious. I'm sure Hermione worked it out before Christmas. _

"And Vol— he - realized I was there?"

"It seems so," said Snape coolly.

"How do you know?" said Harry urgently. "Is this just Professor Dumbledore guessing, or -?"

"I told you," said Snape, rigid in his chair, his eyes slits, "to call me 'sir'."  _ He must learn discipline and respect. There will come a time where he will face the Dark Lord and insolence will not be tolerated. And it is... remarkably satisfying to hear James Potter's voice addressing me as 'sir.' _

"Yes, sir," said Harry impatiently, "but how do you know -?"

"It is enough that we know," said Snape repressively. "The important point is that the Dark Lord is now aware that you are gaining access to his thoughts and feelings. He has also deduced that the process is likely to work in reverse; that is to say, he has realized that he might be able to access your thoughts and feelings in return -"

"And he might try and make me do things?" asked Harry. "Sir?" he added hurriedly.

"He might," said Snape, sounding cold and unconcerned. "Which brings us back to Occlumency."

Snape pulled out his wand from an inside pocket of his robes and Harry tensed in his chair, but he merely raised the wand to his temple and placed its tip into the roots of his hair.  _ Does he think I would curse him here, in front of Hermione? _ When he withdrew it, some silvery substance came away, stretching from temple to wand like a thick gossamer strand, which broke as he pulled the wand away from it and fell gracefully into the Pensieve, where it swirled silvery-white, neither gas nor liquid. Twice more, Snape raised the wand to his temple and deposited the silvery substance into the stone basin, then, without offering any explanation of his behavior, he picked up the Pensieve carefully, removed it to a shelf out of their way and returned to face Harry with his wand held at the ready.

He had taken his memories of the day of his Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., his memory of going to Dumbledore, and his memories of kissing Hermione. He felt empty. His brain gnawed at the missing spots, worrying at the black space where knowledge should have been.

"Stand up and take out your wand, Potter. Miss Granger, you as well. We will demonstrate first, so Potter can see what it looks like, and then it will be his turn."

Hermione nodded, standing and taking out her wand. Harry got to his feet, looking very nervous. He and Hermione faced each other with the desk between them.

"You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of when you face me, Potter" said Severus. "Miss Granger will use physical repulsion first, and then mental alone."

"And what are you going to do to her?" Harry asked, eyeing Snape's wand apprehensively.

"I am about to attempt to break into her, and then your, mind," said Snape softly. "We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse. You will find that similar powers are needed for this… brace yourself, Miss Granger. Legilimens!"

He met Hermione's eyes, speaking the spell aloud for Harry's benefit. In his anger- because just being around Potter made his blood seethe- he struck harder than he usually did. There were three main ways to attack with Legilimency. The first was the one that the Dark Lord preferred- through eye contact, in relatively close quarters with enough force to make the nose bleed. That used bludgeoning power, pushing through all walls without bothering to be sneaky about it. The second was the one Severus usually used as a spy. That was stealth, slipping into someone's mind through long or short distance eye contact. This was used when there were little or no barriers, when just the surface thoughts needed to be read. Even most who studied Occlumency didn't keep their shields up at all times- it was too draining. It had taken Hermione a long time to have the reserves to keep her shields up and carry on conversations and spell work at the same time. It was second nature to Severus before. If one had a layer of false or previously arranged memories over their walls, it would fool all but the most experienced Legilimens. The last kind of Legilimency attack was a combination of the two- the spoken spell for more strength and the penetrating power of eye contact to immediately attempt to breach defenses.

Severus used the last on Hermione. He had used more power than he was used to- than she was used to as well. It forced her eyes open, forced her to maintain eye contact with him. He was inside her mind, he was seeing the surface memories and then he was boring deeper, he slipped around a corner and through a crack and then he was in her body and looking at his face as she watched him speak and trace his lips with a finger, he could feel her arousal and another emotion- something stronger and gentler than want, something he couldn't-

Pain. She had used her wand to push his desk back far enough to push him as well, knocking him off balance enough that he was the one to break the eye contact.

He rubbed his temple and sent his desk back to its previous position with a wave of his hand. Hermione was bent over, holding her head. She coughed weakly, and fear caught him and held him for a moment before he forced his Professor persona over his emotions.

"Straighten up, Miss Granger," he said. He left the safety of the desk, going around to check her. She did as he ordered, keeping a hand over her eyes and her head down. Carefully he lifted her chin, stroking her cheek on the side Potter couldn't see. She opened her eyes- they were bloodshot, but nothing too awful. He sighed and released her.

"You haven't been keeping up with your shields," he chastised. "But good work with the desk. Take a seat and rest while I try Potter."

He returned to behind the desk. "Did you see what she did?"

Potter nodded. "Yes, sir. She threw the desk at you."

"Don't do the same thing," Severus warned him, smirking. "Be original. Brace yourself, now. Legilimens!" He used far less power than he had used on Hermione, but it was still enough.

Severus could see a small boy with dark hair watching a fatter child ride a red bicycle, his heart filling up with envy. The same boy struggling to climb a tree while a vicious dog barked up at him while adults laughed. Then the familiar darkness of the Sorting Hat that was whispering  _ Slytherin _ . A small body with its face covered in fur that he recognized as Hermione with a jolt. A pretty Chinese girl coming close with lips puckered-

"No," said a voice inside Harry's head, as the memory of Cho drew nearer, "you're not watching that, you're not watching it, it's private –"

Pain, again. A welt rising on his hand. Severus could have continued the assault, but reluctantly decided to stop. Potter would need to rest. He released Potter's mind, allowing the boy to fall to the ground, falling into Severus' desk as he did so.

"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" asked Snape coolly.

"No," said Harry bitterly, getting up from the floor.

"I thought not," said Snape, watching him closely. "You let me get in too far. You lost control."

"Did you see everything I saw?" Harry asked, unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer.

"Flashes of it," said Snape, his lip curling. "To whom did the dog belong?" He hadn't liked the image that he had seen, of adults laughing and drinking wine while a dog chased a helpless boy up a tree.

"My Aunt Marge," Harry muttered, throwing Snape a baleful glare.

"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been," said Snape, raising his wand once more. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand. Again, Miss Granger will demonstrate."

Hermione stood shakily. "Yes, sir," she said, voice quiet. "If you don't mind-" she gestured to Harry.

"Go ahead," he said, crossing his arms. He drummed his fingers against the muscle of his arm. "Quickly."

Hermione's serious brown eyes were turned to Harry's angry green ones. "The most important thing is to be calm," she said quickly. "Clear your mind of all emotion, like we were trying to do last night with the meditation. You want to be in complete control of your mindspace. Later we'll try to build walls or a mind palace, some kind of structure to keep memories in and people out. But right now I'm going to do breathing exercises to calm my mind and direct him to thoughts I want him to see if he gets in." Hermione rattled off in a breath.

As soon as she was finished she closed her eyes. In the quiet of the room, both males could hear her breathing slow. When Hermione opened her eyes, they were not quite dreamy but not quite clear either. "Whenever you are ready, Professor," she said.

Again he met her eyes and pressed with his magic. She didn't struggle for long. They both knew she could hold him off if she needed to, but she let him press for a moment before opening her mind. From there he was battered from memory to memory, trivial things. Transfiguration class, interest mixed with slight boredom from having already learned the lesson. Walking to the greenhouses, enjoying the light rain. Braiding her hair, waking up in the bright red cocoon of a Gryffindor four poster.

He disengaged himself, surprised to find how fascinating he found the unimportant things of her life. He hadn't known that she didn't curse the rain like most of the other walkers did, or that she disliked the brightness of the red, preferring a wine color to the carnation.

"Well done, Miss Granger," he said, twirling his wand in his hand. "You need to work on the transitions, but otherwise I would have been fooled into thinking you were an exceptionally boring student." He turned to Harry. "Your turn, Mr. Potter."

Harry had been given time to seethe. After Hermione's quick lesson, it was clear he had been trying to imitate her breathing pattern.

"Now, I want you to close your eyes," Severus said malevolently.

Harry threw him a filthy look before doing as he was told. He clearly did not like the idea of standing there with his eyes shut while Snape faced him, carrying a wand.

"Clear your mind, Potter," said Snape's cold voice. "Let go of all emotion…"

He looked for the signs that normally accompanied calming. But the cords of Harry's neck remained tight, his shoulders suspiciously held. There was still the flush of red on the sides of the boy's neck and at the tips of his eras. Severus looked at Hermione, who shook her head. She knew Potter much better than he did and she could tell that he wasn't obeying.

"You're not doing it, Potter… you will need more discipline than this… focus, now…" Grudgingly he tried to make his voice more encouraging, but it didn't work. He sighed. "Let's go again… on the count of three… one - two - three -Legilimens!"

He was on a broomstick as Potter dodged fire and black scales. James Potter and Lily Evans were waving at him from a mirror and he felt the longing half as intensely as Potter did. And then- Hermione's face, broken in pain sprawled in the grass-

Harry was on his knees again, his face buried in his hands. Hermione knelt next to him, worry furrowing her brow.

"Get up!" said Snape sharply, the sting of seeing  _ her, _ Hermione, there in so much pain, in the boy's memories. "Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort. You are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!"

"I - am - making - an - effort," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"I told you to empty yourself of emotion!" He fought the urge to bang his hand on the desk.

"Yeah? Well, I'm finding that hard at the moment," Harry snarled.

"Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!" said Snape savagely. "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked so easily - weak people, in other words - they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!"

Hermione stood. "Harry is not weak," she said heatedly. "He just needs  _ practice _ . Give him a chance! I was rubbish at it when I started too."

"What did I say about calling me 'sir' or 'professor?'" hissed Severus.

It registered with Hermione, and her gaze turned frosty. "My apologies,  _ sir" _

"I'll do as I wish," he said angrily. "Potter, your loyal follower puts great faith in you. Prove her right! Master yourself!" spat Snape. "Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens!"

The fat man with the walrus moustache was hammering away at a door. Fear slithered across his spine as a hundred Dementors drifted across the lake toward them. And then- he was running along a windowless passage with Mr. Weasley… they were drawing nearer to the plain black door at the end of the corridor… Harry expected to go through it… but Mr. Weasley led him off to the left, down a flight of stone steps…

"I KNOW! I KNOW!"

The loud sound broke Severus' concentration, allowing Harry to break away and fall again. Predictably, Hermione was at his side in a moment.

"What happened then, Potter?" he asked, eyeing Harry intently.  _ That was the Department of Mysteries- yes. He was there this summer for his trial. _

"I saw - I remembered," Harry panted. "I've just realized…"

"Realized what?" asked Snape sharply.

The boy was silent, still trying to fit the pieces together as Hermione helped him stand. He looked up at Snape. "What's in the Department of Mysteries?" he asked bluntly.

"What did you say?"  _ So now he knows. _

"I said, what's in the Department of Mysteries, sir?" Harry said.

"And why," said Snape slowly, "would you ask such a thing?" He didn't look at Hermione, although he had the urge.

"Because," said Harry, watching Snape's face closely, "that corridor I've just seen - I've been dreaming about it for months — I've just recognized it - it leads to the Department of Mysteries… and I think Voldemort wants something from —"

Another spasm of pain wracked Severus' arm."I have told you not to say the Dark Lord's name!"

They glared at each other. When he spoke again, Severus made sure to control his voice, to sound as cool and collected as possible under the circumstances."There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, few of which you would understand and none of which concern you. Do I make myself plain?"

"Yes," Harry said, still rubbing his prickling scar, which was becoming more painful.

"I want you back here same time on Wednesday. We will continue to work then." Enough was enough for one night.

"Fine," said Harry. He looked as if he was itching to get out of Severus' office, to go find the redheaded wonder and rant about the session with him.

"You are to rid your mind of all emotion every night before sleep; empty it, make it blank and calm, you understand? I believe Miss Granger already worked on this with you, but continue to do so. Miss Granger, you will instruct him at nights to make sure his mind is as secure as possible before he falls asleep"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, who was barely listening.

Hermione waited a moment, looking him square in the eye. She was angry. "Yes, sir," she snapped.

"And be warned, Potter… I shall know if you have not practiced." With that, he gestured to the door, ordering it to open wordlessly. "Go. Miss Granger, a word."

Harry shot a questioning glance at Hermione, reluctant to leave her alone with Snape, but left anyway. Snape flicked his hand at the door, slamming it shut.

"The Dark Lord breaks into Azkaban tonight," he said in a low voice. It wasn't necessary- Severus had more than sufficient wards on his office- but it made him feel better to use common sense.

Hermione crossed her arms, leaning against his desk. "Did you already alert Kingsley, or did you want me to do it on my go around,  _ sir _ ?" The stress on the word was unmistakable, making him wince.

"You do it," he told her. "That way he has more time to prepare." He drummed his fingers on his desk. "Are you alright? You seem unsettled by my instance on proper respect in front of Potter, but you know it doesn't apply here, in private. Did I press you too hard earlier?"

Surprise registered on her features. "No, I'm fine," she said slowly. "It's a bit silly to be upset. And it was just more than I was expecting for a demonstration, Severus." She smiled tentatively at him when she used his name.

He let out the breath of apprehension he had been holding. "I saw perhaps more than you intended me to."

It was rare for Hermione to redden, but a tinge of blush appeared in her cheeks as she glanced up at his mouth and looked away. "It's okay. As long as it doesn't make things- well, as long as it's okay for you."

There was a question niggling at him, and it escaped before he could reign himself in. Severus was finding that his self control was perilously thin when it came to Hermione and he wasn't quite sure if he disliked it as much as he should have. "What about it was so... thrilling?"

She blushed more. "Um... you have nice fingers. And lips. Didn't you see all that in my head?"

"Yes and no," Severus said, pushing down the happy feeling that rose suddenly. "I got only the emotion, not the cause. I was... curious."

There was a scowl on her face, but it was not an angry one. "Yeah. Well. It's distracting, you know?"

She was so discomfited that he had to smile at her. It felt so natural to express his happiness with her in this uncharacteristic way that he immediately stopped. "I suppose. You may go."

"Alright," she said, sounding happier. The scowl was gone. "Let me know through the watch when everything happens?"

He nodded. "Of course. Goodnight, Hermione."

There was a special tenderness in her returning smile, even over her shoulder as she laid a hand on the handle of the door ( _ where they had been the first time they had kissed that wonderfully confusing kiss) _ . "Goodnight, Severus."

* * *

Hermione was sorting reports in the privacy of her private bed chamber when the watch she wore burned hot.

_ Come now. Slightly injured. _

It was ridiculous the way her heart jumped to her throat and choked her.  _ Slightly. Only slightly injured.  _ The question was if he was in his rooms or outside. Quickly, she pressed her wand to her own watch.

_ Where are you? _

The answering burn came when she was in the halls.

_ Rooms. _

Good. If he had been able to make it to his rooms, it meant that slightly really did mean slightly, not an understatement on Severus' part. The corridors of Hogwarts were quiet, the cold emanating from the stone walls and floors combating the feeble heat of the braziers and torches that were burning low. The dungeon was even colder, Hermione's breath visible in the air as she loped through the halls.

His office opened to her touch- he had keyed her into the wards after an embarrassing incident involving panties and gillyweed- and gave her entrance to his false chambers.

The day before had been terribly strange, sitting with him in his office being talked to as if she was a child as impudent or disrespectful as Harry. Having him attack her mind had been strange as well, reminding her of their lessons in Safe House Three. And finally- that last talk, his eyes burning into hers as he questioned her about what he had seen in her mind, her hopeless fixation on his mouth and hands  _ together _ and the way his finger traced his mouth. He had been pleased that she had found it arousing- bastard, constantly telling her that they had to remain neutral for now, refuse to give in to whatever attraction was growing and pulsating between them, and then  _ asking _ her about something they both should have just tried to forget about.

_ Maybe given time he'll give in _ , a treacherous voice whispered.  _ No more "It's for our own safety, we need to be reasonable and keep the war in perspective," no, it'll be different. _

She passed into Severus' real rooms, her trepidation growing when she heard a string of curses from the bedroom. "Severus?" she called, walking toward the room. "I'm coming in."

He didn't reply immediately, but she could hear harsh breathing and she headed for the sound. "I'm in the bathroom," he said belatedly. "In- just turn on the light in there, you'll see it."

Hermione did as he had bid, noting the black Death Eater robes and white mask on the bed. Severus came into view as she carefully moved in the attaching bathroom. Severus was shirtless, his forearms were braced on the sink, with his back toward her. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had been over the summer- but the red welts were bleeding freely, without clotting, although it had clearly been at least two hours since they had been inflicted.

Severus was pale; it was clear that without the sink he would be wavering helplessly. "He was in a good mood," he wheezed, trying to straighten. Flutters of bruising on his torso told her that they would also be dealing with broken ribs or internal bleeding. Already she was tying her hair back, rolling up her sleeves.

"What happened?" she asked, swallowing hard. "I thought- if he's in a good mood, then why punish you?"

A sardonic grin came at her from behind strings of hair. He hadn't been able to properly rise. "The Dark Lord was in a good mood, so he humored dear Bella's request. She was concerned that I was still a traitor. She asked him to question me, begged him to use pain to ensure she would not have to return to Azkaban as a result of my indiscretion or other master."

_ That makes sense _ , Hermione thought. "What do you need me to do?"

He jerked his chin at a slim bottle that was half full of a cleaning solution, similar to the one he had used on the cut on her own face when he was teaching her wandless magic. "I tried pouring it directly on my back but it's damn painful and I waste more than I use. Dab a good portion on the cloth there and apply it to the open ones. He used something so that they don't stop fucking bleeding and I've already taken three Blood Replenishers. Anymore-"

"Wouldn't be good for your liver," Hermione finished. "Are you comfortable here or would you rather go lay on your bed?"

The look he gave her settled it. She sighed and began to work, keeping her face impassive as he flinched. If Severus was unable to keep his own features still, it had to be more painful than the sting she had felt when he had given her the same treatment. "Antiseptic?" she asked.

"That and a clotting agent," Severus said through gritted teeth. "For healing and closing. But if you want to close the skin, you have to make triply sure that you aren't leaving anything inside that could cause a nasty infection so- Ah! Damn it, woman, gently!"

The muscles of his back were tense, which caused him more pain as he stretched his other wounds. Hermione brought the hand that wasn't holding the cloth up to his shoulder. "Relax, Severus," she said gently. "Try to, at least." She rubbed the tense muscle where his neck met his back, kneading it with her thumb. "Would you prefer I knock you out and do it while you're unconscious?"

He glared at her reflection in the mirror. "No. Continue."

"Well then," she said, raising an eyebrow. "What were you saying about this stuff?"  _ Hopefully, that will distract him enough. Make him think about something else than the pain. _

She worked and listened as he told her about the various properties of the solution, how he had made it, and why he had chosen different proportions of herbs and why. It was all interesting material, and the way that he could rattle it off to her while in pain was impressive (and... cute, if such a word could ever be applied to Severus).

It was difficult to work on his back without admiring it. Severus was lanky, but he was not without muscles, powerful ones that bunched under his skin as he tensed in response to her actions. His waist was trim, he was far too thin. His arms though, they were strong. Strong enough to have carried her on several occasions. His skin was a bit jaundiced in the places it wasn't rent and bleeding.

He ran out of steam about the time that she finished. "Done," she said. "What now?"

"Bind my ribs," he instructed. "Well- heal the bruises as much as possible and then bind them. They grow resistant to magicking after years of it. The binding will do for now, so that if I have to heal them in an emergency the spells will work better."

A quick tap of her wand on the purplish areas shrunk the bruises down. "Do you have bandages somewhere?"

"In the cupboard behind the mirror," answered Severus. He looked at himself in the mirror and winced. "I'm a mess."

"You were more of a sight over the summer," Hermione said, unable to help the small smile that came from Severus' vanity. The roll of bandages was right where he had said they would be- clean and white. Unused.

He snorted, but lifted his arms for her anyway. Carefully she began winding the fabric around his chest. The flat pink nipples disappeared first, then the outline of his visible ribs. Sweat had cooled on his skin, and he smelled like blood and rust and pain and under all of that like Severus. She could pass under his arms when he held them straight out without ducking, he was that much taller than her.

_ Which is why he picked me up the first time we kissed. If my neck was hurting his was too. And he was strong enough to lift me. Why is it that I'm finding everything he does incredibly... sexy? Focus. On... how he was acting during the Occlumency lesson. Not all of that was acting. He hates Harry. _

With that in mind, she tied the bandages off perhaps a bit tighter than she normally would have. Severus grunted, then lowered his arms slowly. She stepped away from his warmth. "Are you going to bathe?" she asked. "You need to clean up."

He glanced at the clock. "Tomorrow morning," he decided. "I'd fall asleep and drown in the water."

Hermione leaned against the wall and door, yawning. "I know the feeling," she said. "I have twice the time in a day most people have and I still don't get half as much sleep as I should." It was true- frequently she was up past two or three in the morning sorting through reports and writing others, and rising at six to work before going to class.

Grey eyes regarded her with concern. "You aren't sleeping?" He was asking, indirectly, if the nightmares were still a problem.

"I don't have the time to sleep," she answered, yawning again. "What happened tonight? I'll write up the report and give it to the Headmaster. You need to sleep if I don't want you beheading Neville tomorrow."

He scowled at her, stalking toward her. The door was at her back- she sighed and opened it, letting him through and then following him.

"He had me at his side as the raid happened," Severus told her.

Hermione sat on his bed, toeing off her shoes and pulling her knees up to her chest. "And Lucius Malfoy orchestrated it?"

"Yes. The raid went nearly as planned. The Aurors showed up but retreated when they saw that the Death Eaters were using Killing Curses. The Dementors let them in, the cells were blown apart, the prisoners taken away on brooms." The usual silky drawl of Severus' voice was harsher, either by pain or by weariness Hermione didn't know. "They were revived and healed and given choice positions at the Dark Lord's side. He rewarded them most generously."

Hermione closed her eyes, rubbing the side of her head. "And all Bellatrix Lestrange wanted was..."

"My torture," Severus said dryly. "Other than that... an uneventful meeting. So shoo. I need to sleep and you are in my bed."

_ Yes, I am, _ Hermione thought.  _ Shame it's only platonic. _ She smiled and did as he had told her. "Goodnight, Severus."

"Be prepared for the paper tomorrow," he said sternly, collapsing onto his bed now that she wasn't in the way. "Goodnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 26.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I appreciate all of the comments and kudos. Hope you enjoyed reading! Also, if you haven't read them already, I have a few more shorter SSHG stories!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! Thank you to my beta, Sorasradust. 
> 
> This chapter jumps around in time a little, but it should be easy enough to follow from the major events of book 5!

**_Chapter 27_ **

The next day was an outbreak of panic that was more discernible in the staff than in the students. The smaller children- the first through fourth years- didn't quite understand what was going on. The older ones, though, they knew, or their families knew, what one Death Eater, let alone ten, could do.

But the teachers were the ones who were scared.

Hermione knew that at least three members of staff had lost their families to Death Eaters, McGonagall included. The Scottish woman's children had died at the hands of Grindelwald's followers; her husband, to Voldemort's. Professor Sprout's sister had been killed by Dolohov. The Astronomy Professor had lost her own parents to the Lestrange brothers.

The atmosphere of Hogwarts in the weeks following the break out from Azkaban was heavy. The number of Educational Decrees rose. Umbridge began to observe all the Care of Magical Creatures classes, all of the Divination classes.

Hermione and Severus moved around each other cautiously, making plans late in the night in Severus' rooms. They tried not to allow themselves to get too close to each other. In the early days, right after they had returned, they had brushed each other as they moved, and the resulting pause and eye contact had made leaning into him all too tempting. She had even let her eyes slide close as she was drawn closer to him- and then he had pulled away with a pained expression and escaped to the kitchen to make tea. When they got too close to each other, the pull of attraction was too strong.

It had become more apparent than ever that Hermione always found her way to Severus and his rooms and his tea whenever she was having a bad day, whenever she was tired, whenever she needed someone to talk to. He would help her in his own way, be it snarky comments or the loan of a good book.

On Severus' mantlepiece, now, was a small glass figurine in the shape of a crane, wings spread in flight. It had arrived, without a note, by owl on the morning of January ninth. When Hermione had seen it subtly displayed, she had smiled carefully at him and had said nothing. However, she glanced at all night, as if immensely pleased with the way it looked.

The strangest part for them were the Occlumency lessons they were giving Harry. They were in close proximity, sharing each others' minds, and yet had to remain in the persona of student and teacher. Harry was not responding well to the joint lessons, as Hermione had predicted to Dumbledore. Nonetheless, the headmaster did not want to discontinue the lessons. He thought they were extremely necessary, both for Harry to learn Occlumency but also so that he would get used to Severus.

Days and nights settled into a routine, broken occasionally by a call from the Dark Lord in the dead of night, which for Severus meant the burning pain of the brand in his forearm and for Hermione meant a light heat at her wrist, which was Severus' alert to her.

"We haven't sparred in a long time," Hermione remarked casually one rainy weekend in January. One of her selves was doing homework with Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor Common Room and the other was reading in Severus' rooms while the professor graded assignments.

She could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he replied. "Afraid you've lost your touch?"

Even though his back was to her, she stuck her tongue out at him. "I've been keeping up my practice," she retorted. "I doubt you've had the time to."

He made some kind of noise in the back of his throat. "Let me finish the rest of this stack and we'll see who has 'had the time' to stay in shape."

For the next half hour anticipation curled in Hermione's belly as the scratchings of Severus' quill grew quicker and quicker.

Hermione could only remember the last time she had seen Severus practising his knife-fighting skills. It had been the day after he had kissed her the first time- he had obviously been punishing himself by forcing his body through drill after drill, leaving the more practical skill sets for the fancy and extremely complicated fighting dances, ones that she didn't even know yet.

He had been in his white shirt and black trousers, his habitual clothes. But his sweat had turned the white shirt transparent where it stuck to his skin, and he had looked so fierce and deadly and desperate that her heart had thumped and her belly had clenched.

It was something different from just plain sexy. Arousing might have been a better word. He had called to the carnal part of her, beckoning dangerously. In the dark of the room, he had backed her against a wall and her heart had raced and if he had wanted to fuck her against that wall she would have lifted her skirt then and there.

Oh dear. Maybe sparring him wasn't such a brilliant idea when just thinking about him with knives flashing in his hands was making her feel almost uncomfortably hot.

"Ready," Severus drawled. "I'll meet you at the practice room. It gives you a few extra minutes to warm up and frantically review everything I've ever taught you."

She sneered at him, leaving the room with only a thread of apprehension. There were times when she was attracted to the sexy bastard that was Severus Snape and there were other times when the bastard part came to the forefront and she just wanted to strangle him.

When he did arrive in the practice room she was stretching and trying to calm her mind. Hermione had already tamed her hair into a braid and had her legs stretched wide as she lowered her body to the floor. Her Time Turner and the keys to his room were off the side. Hermione didn't want to see what could happen if they were fighting and the Time-Turner broke. She kept the necklace Severus had given her, though, judging it short enough not to matter. Severus made all pretence of ignoring her completely as he completed his own warm-up, beginning with hand stretches for nimbleness and ending with a quick form, one that he preferred for loosening and warming the areas around his old injuries.

The room heated with a silent charge, the air warming as they loosened their muscles. It seemed to take an age for Severus to stalk to the center of the room, walking with easy grace and confidence. His shirt sleeves were rolled to just below his elbows, his shirt still crisply tucked in. His long hair was drawn back with a band. Without a curtain of greasy hair to obscure his face, Severus' sharp features were bare to her eyes. His nose and jaw were perhaps too harsh to be considered attractive by conventional standards, but his brow was fine and his mouth beautifully made. It was his eyes, though, that drew her in. There was enough light in the room that they had taken on more of a slate grey than black cast. Now they were watching her intently as she unsheathed her own knives and moved carefully toward him, hyper aware of the blades held in his hands.

Severus attacked first, coming down on her with his superior height and strength. She slipped out of his grasp, aiming a kick at his kidneys.

From there it was a blur of action; brilliant flashes of light off of their blades, spells shooting from the cores in the knives, and feet darting out of nowhere to aim kicks at faces or sensitive areas.

Somewhere in it all she disarmed him, kicking his hand with a hard foot and sending one of his knives flying. He only had one, and he used it well until she was able to hook it from his grasp with her two. She thought she had him until he made a waving motion and disarmed her wandlessly and wordlessly before she could raise a shielding spell. Her knives soared toward him, and it took just about every ounce of magical power and practice in wandless magic that she had to force them to shoot past Severus and into the darkness of the practice room.

"Hand to hand, then?" Severus asked, a sharp grin on his face. Hermione wondered if he even knew how happy he looked. She decided not to mention it, knowing that the typically sour man would immediately stop, if only out of spite, if he did know.

She grinned back. "Of course."

Bruises formed quickly as she blocked and spun and punched. She managed to land one good one on his face before he tripped her.

Hermione landed hard on her back, the breath knocked out of her for a moment. Even breathless, she managed to hook one leg around his ankle and pull him down with her. She scrambled to get on top of him, to pin him down with an arm across his throat.

Severus struggled, letting out a shout of triumph as he managed to flip them over and pin her under him. She fought for a moment, but could recognize her defeat. He was much larger than she was. Both her hands were pinned above her head by one of his large hands, and the other arm was pressing lightly at her throat.

Both of them were breathing hard. Her mouth was dry; her lips were dry. She licked them. "I surrender," she said, voice much breathier than it normally was.

It would have been hard to say who became aware of their position first, who first knew about the press of breasts to chest and hip to hip. All Hermione knew was that Severus was looking at her in the particularly dangerous way that told her that he wanted to  _ do _ things to her, things that she had only read about and perhaps even dreamed about if any of  _ those _ dreams had lasted long after she woke with breasts tingling and stomach heavy.

For a moment she was sure that he would press harder into her, that he would kiss her again, that the stirring she felt against her center would press with growing hardness- but then that moment was gone and the arm on her neck was gone and her hands were released. Severus was standing, and she was still lying prone on the floor.

Wordlessly, he offered her a hand. She accepted it gratefully, letting him use the strength that had kept her pinned to pull her up. They stayed silent as they collected knives and healed bruises.

The sliver of time that it had been his body, heavy on top of hers, remained pressed into Hermione's flesh memory. She worked up her courage, collecting her things before drifting toward him.

She had to ask. "Are you sure?"

Hermione hadn't been sure if he would look at her or refuse to turn, but after a heartbeat, he faced her squarely. "Yes." There was a practised blankness to his features, a careful mask to hide his thoughts.

"Well, then," she said sadly. "We'll need a rematch. Just so you can prove that it wasn't a fluke."

Humor animated his face once more, creasing the skin near his eyes. "Of course it wasn't."

"I disarmed you first," she reminded him, eyes dancing. "We'll see next time."

* * *

It had been three days. Three days since Hermione had last come knocking on his door, which meant it was probably about six for her. Severus didn't like this.

He had been debating what he was about to do since the night before. It was late enough now that he didn't want to wait any longer, late enough that he was reasonably sure the Dark Lord would not call him. With a slight growl of frustration, he tapped his wand to his pocket watch  _ ( _ on the chain she had made him) and sent a brief message.

_ Tea? _

There was no answering reply. He frowned, and stalked to his desk. Well. If she didn't want to see him, that was her prerogative. They had been interacting quite frequently as late, and as January had made an uneventful and windy transition into February they had been spending nearly every evening together, apart from the ones he spent at the Dark Lord's side.

He had been spending more time with her than she had been spending with him. Severus supposed he should have been tired of her by now, but it had yet to happen after several years. When had he started to pay attention to her? To value her words? It had been about two years for him, although it was more than four for Hermione. Strange. She had matured so fast he hadn't even noticed that he wasn't treating her like a child anymore because she didn't act like one.

Hermione had wound her way into his life, her presence so constant it only felt strange when it wasn't there. Severus could remember the first time he had tried using wandless magic; the fight it had been to work without his wand had surprised him because he had thought his magic would work for him innately, as it had when he was a child using accidental magic. But no; before the wand it was possible but after using his magic with such ease going without a wand was impossible. Hermione was like his wand; he had functioned quite well before he had even known her name. But after they had grown close, after he had experienced life with a confidant who just smiled and shook her head when he snarked at her, it was impossible to go back. She made life easier. And then when she was taken away, when she left him and he was left crippled, it was like he was trying to do magic without a wand. He managed, of course. He found a way to function without a wand, without his Hermione, but it was a slow process. He missed her, he couldn't quite grasp that a foreign body that had been his for so long was missing.

Severus hated being dependent, or even slightly dependent, on anything. That was why he was taking great pains to develop his alertness potion without addictive qualities. He was already dependent on too many things- Hermione Granger being one of them.

Look at him here now, anxious and frustrated because he had reached out and she would not reach back. Anger, shame, hot and coursing, was burning his veins. Humiliation. He hated the feeling of hanging by his ankles from his own spell with greying underwear on display for all to see.

He checked his watch again, just in case he hadn't felt its burn. Nothing.

It prickled, the shame and awkwardness that weighed on his shoulders. What would he say to her tomorrow, at their lesson?

A creaking noise behind him. And instinctual movement on his part has his wand pointed directly at the shimmering figure that had just entered.

"It's just me, Severus," said her voice, surprised and perhaps a bit indignant. Another shimmering motion, and she slowly came into view once more; color trickling down from her curls to her legs. "There. Put the wand down, now?"

He did so deliberately, taking his time. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione frowned at him, holding up her wrist. Her silver watch- the one he had given her- caught the light. "You asked if I wanted tea?"

"You didn't answer," Severus said mulishly, crossing his arms. Some part of him felt elated that she was there, standing before him. Another was irritated, more flustered now than he had been before. How did she just think that she could do that, spurn him and then just waltz right back in?

Hermione's frown deepened and she mirrored his pose, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "I was with Harry and Ron when my watch burned."

He glared. "So they were more important?"

"I couldn't answer right away without letting them know," Hermione said slowly. "What's wrong? Of course they're important- but I came."

There was no recourse- the concern in her eyes was bothering him. He had to look away. "I thought you weren't coming. You haven't been to see me in three days."

Silence, prolonged silence, brought his eyes back to her face. Now there was a touch of red to her cheeks, and she was looking away. "I thought I had been bothering you," she mumbled, only speaking after letting the silence spread. "It was always me coming to you, not the other way around."

Something about that angered him- why should she doubt that he wanted her presence? Was Hermione the type of woman who needed constant reassurance, one of the needy, clingy ones?

"I wasn't aware that I had done anything that might have given you that impression," he said stiffly. "However-" He stopped speaking. Hermione was walking toward him, arms still crossed.

"I didn't want to impose," she said quickly. "It was just- you never seemed entirely happy to see me and I started thinking that maybe you wanted peace and quiet for your evenings and I was bothering you, or stopping you from getting work done or-" Her breath hitched as his hand came up and he rested one slim finger on her lips.

"I'm not a happy person by nature," Severus said slowly. "But do not think that I was not... pleased... by your company." Her lips were soft under his finger, warm and perhaps slightly chapped from the weather. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin.

She swallowed, raising a hand to take his hand from her lips to press it against the side of her face. It enveloped the side of her head entirely, and his fingers curled in her hair instinctively. "I was just... worried," she said. "That maybe I was pushing you or-"

His other arm snaked out to wrap around her waist slowly, and he moved toward her as she moved to him. Their embrace was not as awkward as he had feared it would be. She was warm against him. Her head rested on his chest, and he just held her for a moment. "No. I- My evenings without your company have been... lonely."

He could feel her sigh against him, and her body seemed to sink into his, to relax fully and softly into his hold. They stood in the center of his rooms for a moment longer, and he revelled in her softness and warmth. Privilege was this- holding Hermione Granger in the late evening, her strength soft against him. Severus had the feeling that she did not show this side of herself with many people, and he had the very distinct sensation of feeling honored to be with her like this.

The urge to kiss her was growing, the want, the need to slant his mouth over hers and hold her even tighter. Her curls and their heaviness against his hand would cushion her head, her skin so smooth and marred only by light freckles would turn red under his mouth.

That was his cue to pull away. "Tea?" he asked, all anger or jealousy or humiliation gone.

Hermione's eyes were sad. "That would be lovely," she said, and her voice caught. "Perfectly lovely."

* * *

"I say we tell Rita Skeeter," Hermione argued. "I need to be there in person, to make sure Harry doesn't give anything away."

Severus sighed heavily. "You aren't listening to me," he snapped. "Your plan is idiotic to the extreme. She's a bloody reporter, there's no way she would be able to keep quiet about your identity if she knew. There is no need to tell her that you are her blackmailer."

Snow was falling heavily outside the castle, although Severus and Hermione could not see if from Severus rooms deep in the dungeons. They could feel the cold however, necessitating the fluffy afghan that Hermione was currently wrapped in. Severus seemed immune to the cold, still in his usual slacks and button-down. Their cups of tea were empty and abandoned on the side tables, and Hermione and Severus were glaring at each other without anything between them to maintain any level of civility.

"And what am I supposed to tell her?" Hermione asked heatedly. "Meet two kids in Hogsmeade and interview them and publish it? Keeping in mind that these kids are Harry Potter and his sidekick?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Severus. "Why tell her that you are the one blackmailing her? The moment that article is published, Death Eaters will converge on Skeeter. I doubt the woman would last more than thirty seconds under torture."

Hermione attempted to draw her fingers through her masses of curls, wincing absentmindedly as her fingers snagged in knots. "What incentive does she have, then? And I want her to see my face. She's been more rebellious lately."

"This is your pride speaking," said Severus harshly. "You want to be recognized for your cunning and that is what will spell your downfall." His grey eyes held hers, perfectly serious.

As he had expected, Hermione took offense. "Are you suggesting that I would endanger Harry and myself due to  _ pride _ ?" she asked incredulously.

Anger flared. "Yes," he retorted. "It is the most common of human flaws and you have more pride than most; it is in your nature. You are smart and you are good at what you do, but you work in the background. You're frustrated with her and with the lack of recognition you receive for-"

"Done with the psychoanalysis?" asked Hermione icily. "Or would you like to continue?"

He glared at her. "If you have something to say, by all means."

"First of all, the Death Eaters would have a hard time catching her," Hermione said, speaking quickly as her anger fueled her words. "She is a goddamn beetle animagus, there is no way that she wouldn't be able to escape anything they tried on her. The moment they breach the wards on her house she would transform, and she's too much of a public figure for them to attack her in the street."

Severus let out an angry snort. "That is exactly why the Death Eaters would do no such thing. She has too much influence with the common people who take her word for law. They would Imperious her or reverse blackmail her just as you have been doing. There is no reason to kill her, no, they would use her. And believe me, Death Eaters are much more frightening than a teenaged girl. She would turn on you in a second to offer them her services and it would be faster if she knew who you were."

"So what are you saying?" Hermione's face was stony, her usual animation tucked behind a wall of composure.

"I'm saying," drawled Severus, "that it would be to your advantage to keep your identity a  _ secret _ so that she doesn't actually know who she should be more afraid of, you or the Death Eaters. And you should make a move soon to insure her continued obedience lest she think she can buck her reins."

Severus was utterly surprised when Hermione threw off the blanket, leaving it crumpled in her armchair as she stormed away. He sat caught in paralyzing surprise until his body caught up with his mind. "Where are you going?"

She wheeled around, arms crossed tightly before her body. "To bed," she snapped. "If you're so bloody brilliant, do all the planning yourself."

This had never happened before; no matter how angry she had gotten. Hermione stayed to fight; she had argued with him over a potions book until three in the morning one night over the summer. This was unsettlingly new from Hermione.

"Don't go," he ordered, reaching out to grasp her shoulders.

Her nostrils flared and her eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

He frowned. "What do you mean, oh?"

"I mean that I'm tired, and I'm tired of arguing this stupid point,  _ and  _ that Harry was absolutely a mess today. Dumbledore wanted another report done by midnight, which means I'll have to do it on my turn around, and I-" She let out a long breath. "There's a lot to do. We still have more than two weeks until Valentine's Day."

Slowly he let his thumbs and fingers rub her shoulders. The muscles there were tense, tight to the point of pain. "Bring them here. We'll do all the reports together and stop arguing. I'll help you. It's only ten, between the two of us we'll have the reports done by eleven-thirty at the latest." He got an idea, and began to steer her over the couch. "Actually, a house-elf can bring them." Releasing her, he moved a few steps away and cleared his writing desk.

He called for one, ordering it to bring the reports to his rooms. The elf was back in an instant, a thick sheaf of parchment in its hands. "On the desk, and you may go," Severus ordered. As soon as it was gone, he returned to Hermione's side, placing his hands on her shoulders once more. "I'll help you," he said, voice low.

Severus' hands didn't leave Hermione's shoulders. Instead, he turned them so that he was behind her instead of facing her and began to rub at the tight muscles near her neck. He knew how to get out knots- and she had plenty.

"Hold on a moment," Hermione said quietly. Her hand went behind her head and drew her hair up, winding it and coiling it into a bun. A thin band was drawn over her wrist, which seemed to hold the precarious mass. "There. That should stay up for a while."

He couldn't see her face but then again, he didn't think he could have continued if he had. Severus went back to work, placing his hands so that his long fingers curled over the tops of her shoulders, touching the hollows of her collarbones. His thumbs pressed deeply on either side of her spine and she shivered.

_ It's cold in here- she was using the afghan earlier.  _ With a twitch of his fingers, he called the blanket over to them. Hermione accepted it gratefully.

She seemed to be unaware of the small noises she made as his thumbs dug into her back, rubbing hard. He was getting hard, embarrassingly so.  _ It's a natural reaction to touching an attractive female and hearing her make noises that unconsciously resemble the sounds she would make during sex. _ He swallowed hard.  _ Except I'm not supposed to be thinking about her that way. _

_ For God's sake you already think about her that way. She's probably thinking the same things about you.  _ The voice he hoped was the voice of truth spoke clearly- the way she was leaning into his touch and sighing made it quite clear that she enjoyed the contact.

"This is wonderful," she said, voice breathy. "You are a god among men, Severus."

It surprised a chuckle out of him. "Hardly. I just have... dexterous hands. Comes with being a Potions Master."

A smile spread across her face- he knew it did. He couldn't see her but he could almost sense the change in her body. "Oh? And when would you need to massage something while making a potion?"

She had caught him.  _ There is a way to beat her at this after all... _

Severus leaned down until his mouth was by her ear. "You don't." He was pressing a kiss to the tender skin below her ear before he could stop himself. The skin there was thin and soft and it smelled like Hermione, like her hair and like ink and like old books. Rosehips, from her shampoo. It was an open-mouthed kiss- his tongue flicked out and tasted her skin. Hermione's arm came up, holding his head in place. His lips moved from below her ear to under the line of her jaw, suckling there too.

Her fingers had made their way to his hair, and as he released the skin and breathed on it, she shivered and clenched the fingers wound in his hair. The slight pain was tantalizing rather than distasteful, but it did bring him back to himself. Severus straightened.

"You can't just  _ do _ that," Hermione said weakly. "That's- that's not fair." The light from the fire was low. The coloring in the room was off, and it affected her face. She had been biting her lower lip- there were teeth marks on lips flooded with blood, almost plum-coloured in the darkness. Her hair was up, exposing her neck and making her look as haughty as a queen. Her eyes were lidded, their gaze more intense than it usually was. She looked older than her eighteen years, and her eyes appeared older than her face.

He raised an eyebrow. "What would be fair?"

She beckoned him. "Come here," she ordered. She stood, shedding the blanket. "Sit."

He did as he was bid. Hermione walked behind him, until the only sign of her presence was her heat at his back. It was unsettling, knowing she was so close and being unable to see her. He jumped when hands pressed to his shoulders, small ones that only touched him tentatively.

At first, her touch was light, and only served to make him tense more. It was clear- despite her earlier words- that she was unsure of herself.

"Harder," he said after a moment. "I'm a touch less fragile than you are."

That got him hard thumbs digging into his muscles with enough force to make him groan. "I'm not fragile," she growled.

"I know," he said, smirking. "That was to get you angry enough to put some back into it."

She was silent for a moment, but her hands kept moving. "You're a prat," she said after a moment.

He was relaxing under her hands, sighing with how good it felt. "Anything new to tell me?"

Hermione moved closer to him. "Well... now that you mention it..." her words were drawn out, her voice curving around them with delicious knowledge. "I'll have you know that I've thought about this a lot."

That was a surprise. "Hmm?"

It was her turn, now, to slide against his back and whisper in his ear. "Your shoulders. I've stared at you and wished that I could rub your shoulders, take some of your tension away, make your world a little bit better..." He felt the puff of breath against his throat before her mouth closed in on his skin, suckling. She moved quickly, pressing her nose into his hair.

"I thought we couldn't do this," she whispered. "We are getting distracted."

It might have been true but it was also true that she was bending down awkwardly and it would be better for her neck and back if he looped an arm around her waist and drew her into his lap. As soon as she was seated he reached into her hair and found the tie, Vanishing it with a concentrated spell. Her hair exploded around them, and he nuzzled inside it until he found her ear. "Yes," he murmured. "Why is it that my self-control is deplorably weak around you, Hermione?"

Her hands, small and hot, were on his neck. "Because you care," she answered. "Because I care about you. Because self-control is underrated."

"Why did you walk away earlier?" asked Severus. He had debated the question quickly, trying to decide if bringing up their earlier fight would break them out of whatever was lowering their inhibitions. It was as if they were trapped in a bubble of amber, acting as if the world outside and the consequences of their actions were held at bay by hardened sap.

Hermione's breath held, and then she released it in a steady stream that was hot against the spot where she had tucked her head. "Because I was stressed and tired and you normally make it better but it was just getting worse."

"Am I making it better now?" He got his answer when she pressed closer to him. Severus tightened his arms around her, just breathing in rosehips and old books and Hermione.

They both knew that the moment they moved the amber would shatter and their responsibilities would be on them again and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

* * *

"Miss Granger, explain to me why I've heard that Harry will be going to Hogsmeade with a certain Miss Chang." Dumbledore's usually friendly blue eyes were icy, his steepled hands foreboding rather than eccentric.

Hermione fought the impulse to fiddle with the edge of her skirt. "It's part of my plan. It'll be Valentine's Day, Harry and Cho will spend half the day together, and then Harry will meet me and Luna Lovegood for an interview with Rita Skeeter. Cho will be upset that he chose me over her, and that'll be the end of it."

The Headmaster frowned. "That was right, Severus did tell me you were planning to use whatever hold you have over the woman to publish an account of what happened at the graveyard. From the name of the other girl with you I'm assuming you're publishing in  _ The Quibbler _ ." He stroked his long beard, thinking. A few of the silver instruments puffed harder than usual, and calmed.

"If all goes according to plan, Cho Chang will be so humiliated she'll hardly be able to stand showing her face at our D.A. meetings," Hermione said promptly. "Harry will be confused, and there will be so much attention on him that he will hardly have time to think about girls."

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said, brightening a bit. "If you are bringing Miss Lovegood, do you think you can also bring young Ginny Weasley along?

_ No, I don't want to. _ "No," Hermione said carefully. "This meeting is restricted only to essential personnel. I don't want to draw attention. I've reserved a meeting room at the Three Broomsticks. Just Harry, Luna, Skeeter, and me." She sighed. "And it wouldn't be Ginny's idea of fun anyway. She's popular, and she probably has a date with... I think it's Dean Thomas that she's seeing now."

Dumbledore smiled genially. "Well then. Let her be young and not drawn into this all for a while longer. Perhaps you can work on dissolving her relationship with Mr. Thomas-" he paused, scrutinizing Hermione's face. "Ah. I see you do not like that idea."

"I don't," Hermione said quietly. "If they are meant to get together, they will. We don't need to manipulate them into it."

"Do not think of it as manipulation, my dear," Dumbledore said kindly. "Think of it as doing what is best for them."

_ I can't do that. I hurt Harry enough already, I can't do it to Ginny and to Ron and to Harry even more. _

* * *

The middle of February was a misery of slush and wet snow that hardened into slippery ice. Herbology was cancelled twice because the grounds were just a bit too pitiful to cross.

Hermione's private room had a small window that looked out over the lake. By the middle of the month it gave her only a grey, dreary picture.

The bed was nearly a nest of blankets, piled upon one another until Hermione was as warm she could get without warming spells. The small book she used to communicate with Rita Skeeter was propped in her lap, and Hermione was using one small hand to write in it. Ink drops dotted the coverlet by her inkpot, making her wince. Some poor house-elf would have to clean it if she couldn't find some way to siphon it off with magic.

_ You will be meeting some friends of mine tomorrow. You are familiar with some of them... _

Hermione had to only wait a moment for Skeeter's response.

_ What's in it for me? And where is the meeting? _

Eventually, Hermione had agreed not to reveal herself to Skeeter unless absolutely necessary. If the woman acted scared of her in front of Harry or Luna, it might make them wary of her as well.

_ You will be meeting Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Luna Lovegood at the Three Broomsticks. You will be getting the first exclusive interview from Potter and Granger on the events of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Miss Granger is there as my representative, and Miss Lovegood as the representative of the Quibbler, in which this interview will be published. This is not up for discussion. You will write the story exactly as it is told to you, and it will then be reviewed by myself before publishing. _

Rita's response was a long time in coming.

_ They'll find me. How much am I being compensated for this? _

Hermione smiled grimly. She would do it.

_ Officially, you are receiving no compensation. After printing, if the article appears exactly as I edit it, a small sum will be paid to you. Also, a friend of mine in the Dark Lord's circle will ensure that no one will go against you. If they do, they will need to answer to me and they would not risk it. _

Biting her lip, Hermione examined her response. It might have sounded a bit overdone, but what was said- written- was said.

_ Fine. Any other instructions? _

A sigh of relief left her lips.

_ Yes. Do not be seen. Do not enter the Three Broomsticks. Fly through the third open window on the second floor. It will only be open from 2:00 to 2:10 so do not be late. You will leave the same way. The children will leave first, you will wait ten minutes and then leave through the window. _

Hermione closed the book. The hard part was done- the rest would play out the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 27.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I can't wait to see all of your lovely comments, as always. Next chapter will be out on Wednesday. Hope everyone is staying safe and well.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting - work got a little crazy this morning. COVID + mental health + homelessness in a large city makes for some trying times. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_**Chapter 28** _

The room in the Three Broomsticks was heated quite nicely, although the wind blowing from the open window drained much of the warmth. Hermione sighed and waved a hand at the fireplace, sending a few additional logs onto the flagging fire.

Rita Skeeter had two minutes left to get in the room before Hermione closed the window. If she hadn't known the reporter well enough, her tardiness would have had Hermione stewing and plotting her downfall. But she had expected the animagus to be late; it was in her nature, as was the urge to prove to Hermione- or whomever Rita thought was blackmailing her- that she would rebel in any way possible.

It had occurred to Hermione that the bug was already in the room and hiding. Therefore, her first action upon entering was to cast a number of revealing and summoning spells. Hermione had ended up with a table full of dead bugs and live spiders and complete assurance that no one else was in the room but she.

Hermione checked her watch once more, and sighed. The second hand ticked once, twice, three times- and just as Hermione was raising a hand to close the window, a small dark shape entered and landed on the floor.

"Lovely to see you again, Rita," Hermione said in a sugary voice. With a brisk motion, the window slammed shut and latched.

One blink and a woman with styled blonde curls and acid green nails stood before Hermione. Rita Skeeter was clutching a crocodile skin bag, wavering slightly in her high heels, and staring daggers at Hermione.

Rita sneered. "Where's Harry Potter?" she asked in a nasal voice. "I was promised an interview with him."

Hermione gestured to the seat in front of her. "Sit down," she offered kindly. "Don't worry. Harry will be here soon. I just wanted the chance to talk with you first." She let her lips spread in a sweet smile, allowing only a hint of malice to shine through. "But you know me, don't you, Rita? Did a few good stories about me. Even managed to get a quote or two!"

Perhaps she looked more dangerous than she had intended, but Rita Skeeter sat down with a thump and more than a little fear on her face. "I'm a journalist," she snapped. "I get stories."

"Now, you know that's twisting the truth a bit," Hermione said. "Journalist implies some kind of integrity." She couldn't stop a smirk when Rita started, indignant. "Now, don't get offended. It's really rather clever what you do. Sneak around, hear the truth, print whatever would aid yourself." She tapped her fingers on the table. "Or your... handler."

That caused Rita's eyes to burn, and her long-nailed fingers to clench on her alligator skin bag. "You know who it is?"

Hermione trailed her finger around the rim of her glass, then stirred her drink with the paper umbrella before she answered. "I have a good idea," she 'admitted,' looking up at Rita. "But I have enough information to know that you have to do exactly what I say or they'll out you."

It was clear to Hermione how she was appearing to Rita Skeeter- a prissy schoolgirl who knew a bit too much, enough to frighten her. But she didn't walk as fine a straight line as her friends presumed- rather, she found it better to act as if she knew more than she did. Yes, it was this impression Hermione wanted to give to Rita and it was this impression that Rita received.

"So you have to do what I say," Hermione continued. "And I want you to write an article about Harry Potter and what happened at the graveyard last summer."

Rita narrowed her eyes. "You want me to write or she wants me to write?" At Hermione's rehearsed frightened look, Rita scoffed. "I see her handwriting and I'm trained to see such things. It's a woman, whoever is controlling us."

Hermione swallowed hard. "It doesn't matter," she said firmly. "You're going to do it or you are going to go to Azkaban."

"Well then, girlie," Rita said nastily. "Why don't you get me a drink?"

Hermione gestured to the bell-pull near the door. "Call for one yourself."

The two women waited in tense silence, waiting for Luna. She was due to come at 2:20, she had not yet shown up. Hermione despairingly considered what could have happened to the Ravenclaw between the school and the Three Broomsticks; best case scenario she had gotten distracted and forgotten, worst case, someone had taken her shoes again.

Hermione sighed with relief when there was a light tapping on the door. She rose to admit Luna, who smiled at both of them dreamily. "I don't think Harry will be very long," she said in an airy voice. "I could hear Cho yelling at him from the street."

Whatever it is, I'll see it on my turn around, Hermione thought with a shrug. "Hi, Luna," she said, mouth curving up in a grin. "This is Rita Skeeter. Rita, this is Luna. Her father owns the Quibbler."

Hermione caught Rita's barely concealed sneer. "Pleasure," she said, false sincerity echoing in her voice.

Luna drifted over and patted Rita's arm. "It might not be a large name but it prints more truth than The Daily Prophet."

There wasn't even the chance to hide the smile behind a hand; Hermione grinned and rang the bell to order a drink for Luna.

"Now we wait for Harry," she said, pleased.

The hero in question arrived not ten minutes later, visibly upset. Hermione sighed, and stood, blocking Rita's view of Harry. With a flick of her wrist, she erected a Muffliato to conceal their conversation.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, keeping her voice low.

Harry's eyes flicked to Rita and Luna. "They can't hear us," Hermione said quickly. "Is it something that can be dealt with later?"

Anger might have shown in his eyes, but the seriousness of Hermione's face made him quell it. "Yes,” he said softly.

She beamed at him. "Good," she whispered. "I'm sorry, but this is important. It might be the most important thing you do this year, including your O.W.L.s."

Harry swallowed hard. "Yeah. Okay. We'll talk about it later."

There was curiosity in Rita Skeeter's eyes, a sleek and cunning kind of curiosity that unsettled Hermione. Severus had warned her before that there were people who could live with being blackmailed and people who would back down until they could find a way to ruin the person who held power over them. Rita was the last type. She would bide her time and then she would try to ruin Hermione.

The two Gryffindors sat down at the table. Harry's butterbeer arrived shortly, and then they began to talk.

Harry was the one who began, speaking in a monotone voice about the Third Task, him and Cedric deciding to take the trophy together, and Hermione appearing.

"I went to find him," Hermione interrupted. "There was no time to go for anyone else. I barely got there in time."

"And why did you go with Harry?" Rita asked, eyes intent on Hermione even as she wrote every word the two said. "Why didn't you leave the trophy in the hedge maze?"

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. "It was an accident," Hermione said quietly. "Cedric- Cedric Diggory – was reaching for it. I pushed him out of the way, trying to get to Harry, and- my hand brushed it. Just a brush, at the same time as Harry."

Guilt burned at her throat, preventing any more words from leaving. Harry picked up their tale from when they landed in the graveyard.

Sometimes in her dreams, she could still feel the loamy soil, moist and smelling of grass and mist and sorrow. Sometimes she could feel her heart thumping, trapped inside her ribs. The chill of the mist sinking into her bones, the clammy hands, the intense fear for the boy next to her...

Cool smoothness met her fingertips. Hermione blinked, running her fingers over Severus' pearl again. It grounded her, bringing her back to the tavern room, to Harry's voice next to her and Rita's quill scratching and Luna humming under her breath.

Hermione stayed silent until Harry began to name the Death Eaters that were present. He listed as many as he could; Hermione filled in the rest.

When they finished Rita looked at them with wide eyes. "You can't honestly want me to publish this," she said in a hoarse voice. "This is a joke."

Hermione tilted her head, fixing the journalist with a flat stare. "You can and you will," she said dangerously. "I already explained how and why this will work." She captured Rita's gaze and held it.

"Fine," snapped Rita. "What happened then?"

Hermione was grateful that the interview was more focused on Harry than on her. She only chimed in when necessary, holding Harry's hand in a death grip under the table.

"And...that's all," Harry said. His voice was dry, crackling. He reached for his butterbeer with his free hand, only to find it empty. Hermione wordlessly pushed her drink toward him. He squeezed her hand gratefully and drank. "That's it. Anything you want to add, Hermione?"

She shook her head. "No. That's it." She didn't let go of Harry's hand as she stood, taking him with her. "We'll be in touch, Rita. Send the draft out to me by Wednesday. When it is finished it will find its way to Luna."

Numbness, from the cold blowing across her face and from the memories that were crowding her mind, consumed Hermione as the trio- with Luna taking Ron's usual space on Hermione's other side- walked down Hogsmeade's main street.

Other memories were coming now, of a beach smelling of brine and sand and the moon shining on a bald man's head. Of a woman with red hair and deft hands with quick poison. Of red blood on flesh and wooden floors.

"I'm going to head back with Hermione," she heard Harry say. "See you back at Hogwarts, Luna."

The two of them trudged through the snow, arms linked. Both were quiet with their minds, with thoughts swirling as snow fell and accumulated in burdensome drifts. They were halfway to the castle before Hermione belatedly remembered to cast warming charms on them.

When they arrived in the Gryffindor Common Room it was warm and nearly deserted. None of the older students had returned from their Valentine's Day in Hogsmeade, and just a few first and second years were clustered around a game of Exploding Snap in the corner. Harry and Hermione made for the other corner, tucking themselves into armchairs. Hermione called up bluebell flames in jars she conjured, giving one to Harry to warm his hands and taking the other for herself.

"You still dream about it, don't you," Harry said after they were warmer.

"Yes." The words were stronger in her mouth, her compartmentalization skills returning in the safe place of the familiar walls of the common room. "Yes."

"I do too," Harry admitted quietly. "It'll go away one day. We'll see." His green eyes were sincere and sad and loving all at once and any regret Hermione had felt melted away.

* * *

On the twenty-third of February, the March issue of The Quibbler was released to widespread panic from the Ministry and intense curiosity from the general population. The school was in an uproar. Harry received what was probably hundreds of letters, and Hermione received a fair share herself. Umbridge did her part by banning the article. Luna bought new shoes, and Hermione placed a complex tracking charm on them - not that the Ravenclaw’s possessions had gone missing since Hermione had spoken to the prefects.

"It played out more perfectly than I could have ever imagined," Hermione drawled happily, sprawled in her armchair in Severus' quarters. "Rita did as I ordered, Umbridge danced to my tune, and the truth is out there."

Severus hardly looked up from his grading. "Sounds like you're drunk on the power," he observed wryly. "Should I send for some elves to redecorate your rooms in green and silver?"

Any day when she was less joyous she might have made a face at him or stuck her tongue out childishly. Now she just laughed, surprising her dour Potions Master.

"It was hardly enough to warrant that," he said scathingly. "You get sillier by the day."

She stood, crossing the room to lean against his desk, a grin still on her face. "That's what happens when you turn nineteen, apparently. You get sillier as you get older. Unless you're Severus Snape, of course. Then you only get more and more and more serious." Impulsively, she reached out and tapped his nose.

When he looked up, frowning, she just laughed again. "Today's been a good day. Begrudge me my humor, Severus."

With a sigh he stood from his desk, placing the last marked paper in its pile. "Congratulations, my little Gryffindor," he told her, regarding her with dark eyes. "Your plans have come to fruition and you have discovered you adore the feeling." Solemnly, he raised a hand and tucked a curl behind her ear, brushing her heated cheeks with cool fingers in the process. "The last thing I'd do is fail to take extreme pleasure in your extended good humor." He let his fingers tangle in her curls, the tugging of the hair tingling along her scalp.

"Oh?" Hermione said, thought flying out her head for a moment. It was a struggle to keep her head around him. "What-um- kind of pleasure?"

There was a sharp exhale of breath from Severus, a flaring of his nostrils and a darkening of his eyes that she accurately read as both surprise and arousal. "The kind that makes me want to do things we agreed we wouldn't," said Severus darkly, untangling his fingers. "It's the infernal smiling."

Hermione's lips wavered as she tightened them in an attempt not to smile. "Then I shall do my best to avoid any type of infernal smiling that might... affect you," she said, trying to school her voice into seriousness. "I'll restrict myself to giggling, happy sighs, and occasional pleased looks."

The smile was only on his face for a moment, but it was enough to make her beam. With a disgusted sigh, Severus turned and stalked to his bookshelves. "You're smiling again."

"I am," Hermione said agreeably. "And I have a feeling I will continue to do so for the rest of the day."

* * *

"Why am I here, Headmaster?" Severus drawled, letting his eyes meet Dumbledore's insolently. "You should have received the Granger girl's report on Friday, as usual."

Behind the spectacles, ice blue eyes narrowed. "Not calling her Hermione today, Severus?"

Something cold and violent spread under his rib cage, even as he raised an eyebrow with slow precision. "She's been irritating lately. Did she fail to deliver the report on time?"

Dumbledore's gaze returned to normal, even as Severus' had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his hands from clenching. "No, no. She's remarkably efficient. The Time-Turner allows her to get much more done than any other Order Member and the work is always impeccable. There is no one I'd rather trust with the amount of information she possesses- we have done well, to give ourselves such a perfect tool."

"Tool?" Severus questioned. She is anything but.

The Headmaster rose from behind his grand wooden desk, turning so that his long white hair flowing over the magenta of his robes was the only thing that Severus could see. He moved to the window, looking down at the Hogwarts Grounds as he collected his thoughts. "Of course. We've groomed her from a young age to be perfectly loyal to the Order, to the cause. She will protect the boy until her last breath, and while she has extra time she processes large amounts of information beautifully for the Order. There has rarely been a concern... until now."

 _He is worried about her loyalty now? Does he know something? Does he know about us?_ Severus stood, following his master. "And what is that concern?"

Albus Dumbledore sighed. "I saw it with Krum, that Bulgarian boy from Durmstrang. Young girls get their heads turned every so often, Severus. He nearly broke her isolation."

"You want her isolated..." Severus mused, drawing connections. "And you feel that she isn't as isolated now as she needs to be?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore said firmly, tapping the side of his nose. "You understand, Severus. Her only lifeline must be Harry... and me. She must have full loyalty to the Order. We have taught her to think, we must be sure that she will not turn that against us."

_You vile, vile man. You are talking about a child you have made a woman far too early, you bastard. You want her dependent on you just as you want your boy savior malleable. You want me to take Hermione, lovely shining Hermione, and quench her brightness, make everyone she turns to share her light with turn away and deny her brilliance._

"In what way would she turn against us?" Severus asked, crossing his arms before his chest.

Dumbledore heaved a great sigh before turning to face Severus once more. "I should have suspected when she said that she had started to blackmail Rita Skeeter. That was far too advanced- that should have been your idea, not hers."

Severus frowned at him. "The girl figured it out for herself," he said firmly. "I only provided transport to and from London."

"So that may be," Dumbledore said shrewdly, "but she is getting too independent. The article in The Quibbler was a successful move, but it could have easily been a catastrophic failure. And today, she failed once again. That Chang girl approached Harry again, ready to forgive despite the spectacle on Valentine's Day. She's either slipping or... she has decided to disobey." His eyes locked on Severus'. "Which is it, my dear boy?"

 _At least when the Dark Lord invades your mind he lets you know that he's doing it,_ Severus through angrily, keeping his barriers strong. He met Albus' eyes angrily, in a challenge. _Break me if you will, old man._

"And you?" Dumbledore murmured after a moment. "Where do your loyalties stand, Severus?"

 _Lie. Lie you fool._ "With you," Severus said smoothly. "With the cause. With Potter." He thought, tracing his lips with a finger. "I will talk to the Granger girl. Rein her in, remind her of her place. I think that she is not being deliberately sloppy- she has plenty on her plate. She is stressed and tired and it is not sitting well on her." It was true. In the past few months, she had gotten bags under her eyes and gotten skinnier, more irritable. She was not far from her breaking point, something that Severus was trying to find ways to prevent.

The old man sighed. "Not much does," he murmured. "Too many morals and not enough cheer. I give her twenty years before she ends up as dour as you, Severus."

Severus scowled at the Headmaster. "You are getting dangerously close to being insulting, Albus."

He had the nerve to chortle. "Ah, well. I'm getting on in age. Talk to the girl, remind her of the danger to Potter. Perhaps I'll plan a quick 'attack' that will jolt her into action, if your little talk doesn't. But then again..." the headmaster's gaze turned on Severus, speculative. "She is remarkably open to your suggestions. Loyal, perhaps. Obedient when you are concerned."

Although the blind panic seized him again, Severus snorted, turning away from the headmaster in a tight motion he hoped did not give away anything. He didn't want the old goat looking into his mind as he composed a lie, a lie that was a half-truth. "You jest. Try telling the chit that. She is impudent, but most times she has the good sense to listen when I talk. I'll do as I can."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, returning to the throne-like chair behind his desk. "It wouldn't do at all for Harry's protector to be too willing to acquiesce to a man who spends half his time as Voldemort's shadow."

Severus stiffened, offended and unsurprised. With a brusque nod, Severus gave a small bow, as sardonic a motion as he could make, and left. As soon as he was out of eyesight of the portraits that lined the floors close to the dungeon, he tapped his watch. Come now. Hidden. Avoid portraits.

Waiting for her to appear in his quarters was not helping the anger and the fear that was building up inside of Severus, the rage at the manipulative old man who was pushing him and her around like fucking pawns-

Severus poured a drink from the small table that Hermione had once looked at with wide eyes, the liquor a dangerous amber in a serviceable tumbler. He lifted it with a sure hand to his mouth, but as soon as the burn of the liquor touched his mouth and the scent burned his throat he growled out a curse and heaved the drink at the fire.

The door opened then closed as the fire hissed and spat, a ripple in the air parting in a moment to reveal Hermione, hair wild and open, breathing fast from running.

"Severus?" she said, bracing her hands on her knees. "What's wrong?"

It was clear in that instant to him, the way her eyes were trained on his own face and not the fire that was melting the shards of glass as it protested the alcohol. Hermione's loyalty might be to the Potter boy, that child savior of an idiot she gave up her childhood for. But there was also loyalty to him there in her unmoving gaze, a desire to see him safe and sound and everything that was the opposite of the path that Dumbledore had charted out for him.

But further than that, Hermione did not bear much loyalty toward Dumbledore. The man was right- she had turned her massive intellect upon the Order and its leader and had found it lacking. Dumbledore was not a man who was fond of transparency; for all he claimed to love the Light, he did not appreciate it when it shined upon him and his actions. Hermione, like Severus, operated half in the Shadow. The only difference was that she faced the Light and he the Dark, but it didn't matter. There was a sliver of mingling, the grey between the sharper colors, where they could exist together and undefined.

The problem with that was that Dumbledore did not tolerate disloyalty or questioning. He worked in a very set way, a pattern that had played out time and time again and would continue to reenact itself until the War ended. The first step in his formula was to find a social outcast, one who didn't quite fit in. And then- the deciding action, when Dumbledore could play either the hero or the judge, where he would do the outcast a favor so enormous there was no choice but to be appreciative, but to be loyal, to do all one could to repay him. They- he- would allow themselves to be used because there was the trust that Dumbledore would never do them wrong because of what he had risked to save them, that he was a good man if not necessarily a good one, a man who had the best interests of- something?- at heart.

Hagrid. A magically inept half-giant with a fondness for dangerous creatures. In exchange for a few kind words and a chance to remain at Hogwarts, a loyalty a Hufflepuff would envy.

Remus Lupin. A werewolf boy who had been infected since toddlerhood, a dangerous beast. Seven years of school and protection, unwavering faithfulness. Willingness to go into danger among the werewolves, willingness to teach, willingness to gather information.

Mundungus Fletcher. A petty thief who had accidentally killed someone over an amulet. Rescue from Azkaban, and suddenly a valuable informant on the streets.

And Severus Snape. A boy without friends, without love, without greatness. Who erred drastically, who trapped himself into a situation without hope of redemption. Albus Dumbledore appears before him in a flash of light, full of righteous anger, and offers absolution. Atonement. A hope that he could be a good person after all. Because if Dumbledore knew anything, it was that desperation could be wielded when the desperate inevitably break.

Of course, the pattern deviated. Sirius Black, a pureblood lordling who should have been a Slytherin, a Dark Wizard, who ended up a wolf among Gryffindor sheep. Never trusted, by any but James Potter and perhaps Lupin. When Dumbledore had offered acceptance into the Order, there hadn't been a thought but the desire to prove himself. But- but. Dumbledore had left Sirius Black in Azkaban for thirteen years too long and now there was only one person Sirius Black was loyal to- and that was Harry Potter. And as a result, Sirius Black was locked in a house that was slowly driving him mad in the name of his own safety.

And there was one more name that Severus' analytical mind had to add to the list, even as the part of him that had become defined by the desire to protect Hermione Granger roared its fury.

Hermione Granger. Isolated by her brilliance, hopelessly following the one boy who had shown her a moment of decency, slowly coming to the realization that the Wizarding World would be forever working against her because she wasn't born into its privilege. And then Albus Dumbledore had appeared before her, grandfatherly and worried and knowledgeable, offering wisdom and a chance to pay back her debt. A chance for greatness, a chance to help, and a chance for a naïve little caring girl to do great good in the world. He had rescued her from boredom and obscurity and being lost as a Mudblood in a world where nothing mattered but pedigree. He had forced her to rise above and beyond the glimmers of potential he had seen in the early years and she was supposed to thank him for that.

Severus had helped, his hands were not clean in this scheme. But he could refuse to play along, he could repent. His priorities were clear, clearer than they had ever been. At last, there was something at the top of the list, someone, a purpose that was shining brilliant and hard in the eyes of the worried woman in front of him.

All of this ran through Severus' mind in space a breath, compacting and hardening what he already knew. He let out a harsh exhale, pulling his fingers through his hair.

"No one saw you come?" he asked, voice low and urgent. "Not one person, not a portrait, not a suit of armor?"

Hermione's frown deepened. "Not even the Fat Lady," she said slowly. "What's this about, Severus?" She folded her arms, looking up at him expectantly. There was more than a little worry behind her calmness, a wildness that flickered in and out of being.

"Dumbledore," said Severus, baring his teeth at the name. "He suspects your loyalty."

The confusion on her face was sudden and then gone, replaced with an understanding that held a flicker of the fury Severus was feeling. "Because of recent events?"

"Yes." There was no need to say more, she understood as well as he did. "He wants you more isolated. He wants to reaffirm your dedication."

Hermione's face smoothed over. "Then that's what we'll give him," she answered, something like relief in the easy lines of her body. "I'm more dedicated than ever, I'm ready to do anything for Harry." When Severus didn't say anything, her brow wrinkled again. "Why are you so concerned, Severus?"

In one movement he was close to her, grasping her shoulders with frantic hands. "He suspects, Hermione. You, me, he thinks that we might not trust him."

Her hands slid up his chest, to his shoulders, rubbing gently in a futile attempt to smooth the tension from his muscles. "We don't, Severus," she said seriously. "Not entirely. It might not be a bad idea for him to know that there are people who will hold his account at the end of the war. Those who aren't blind to what he's doing, how he's using people, using us-"

"No," he said harshly. "Dumbledore gets rid of those who don't believe in him wholeheartedly. We are loyal to Potter, to the Order, but not to him and that is unacceptable. He demands absolute trust and we don't have that for him."

"For anyone," Hermione reminded him. "There only two people I trust absolutely in this world and they are Harry Potter and Severus Snape." Her small fingers were on either side of his neck, stroking his skin. "I've seen too much of what Dumbledore does to trust him."

His breath left him in a strangling moment of sudden shyness and yearning for her to say it again, say that she trusted him again, and fear and frustration that what he was saying wasn't getting through to her. "You don't understand," he snapped, pushing down the warmth that threatened to overcome the icy fear. "When I say he gets rid of people, I'm not pulling it out of my arse. He muzzles people who have seen or heard too much so that their words become unreliable. If you know too much, loyal or not, he will silence you, Hermione!"

It was clear that she still didn't grasp it, still didn't comprehend. It was here that the differences in their ages and experience were brutally present. She hadn't stood at Dumbledore's side for the past twenty years, hell, she hadn't been alive twenty years ago. But- he could show her.

His hands moved from her shoulders to cup her face, tilting it gently so she was looking directly into his eyes. "Look," he demanded. "Look!"

Her own eyes widened; in surprise or fright, he didn't know. But she sighed and whispered, "Legilimens," bringing her own hand up to his chin, holding him in place.

Once she was in his mind he held her tight, showing her memory after memory of listening to Dumbledore plan for the demise or silencing of wizard after wizard, some Order members and others simply those who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Each decision was marked with a tally in Severus' mind, judgment passing behind grey eyes that yielded nothing to Dumbledore.

With her in his mind, he could feel her growing horror, the cold trickle of fear starting to start at the base of her spine. Finally, he showed her the thoughts that had sped through his mind only moments before, tallying those who Dumbledore had collected, people she knew rather than the faceless individuals whose names she had just heard in his memories. These people- Lupin, Hagrid, Sirius- were familiar to her, loved by her.

He meant to end the memory before it came to his name, but she regained some control and held him fast. She was there with him as he felt the desperate need to protect her, the frantic scrabbling for reason. With that, at last, she let him go.

When their minds broke apart, she immediately clenched her eyes shut and pressed trembling fingers to her temples. He released her head, backing away. She had viewed things he hadn't intended for her to see, but... maybe it was necessary. She had needed to see those things, needed to realize the depth of his concern and where it stemmed from.

It was a moment before she straightened, breathing carefully. She still wasn't used to long periods of Legilimency, finding that they drained her strength. Cursory glances were fine, but sustained contact was difficult for a novice.

"Sit," he ordered her. "I'll make tea."

Wordlessly, she did as he said. It was only after a mug full of steaming tea was pressed into her hands, that she looked up at him and spoke.

"I didn't realize," she said quietly.

Severus sat across from her in his chair. "I've been around him for more than twenty years. His way of using people becomes obvious only to one who has been on both sides."

"No," Hermione said, voice still soft. "I didn't realize that- that you cared so much." At the confusion that must have been evident on his face, she looked down at her cup and continued anyway. "About me."

_I didn't realize that you cared so much... about me. She didn't think I cared about her, or at least that my... affection was as strong as it is._

Emotions still fought within him, but his face remained stoic. It was hard to look at her, with the light creating a golden glow around her masses of curls and her delicate hands so firmly clasped around her mug. There was too much evoked at the sight of that mouth, the fine line of her nose, those expressive eyes. The fire was safer to look at, even as it burned around the melted shards of glass from the tumbler he had thrown upon it.

At last he figured that he ought to respond, to stay something. "Do not doubt the depths of my... affection, Hermione. I am not a man who says much, or-" His throat was closing; he couldn't continue. From the direction of Hermione's chair was a gasping breath.

She was crying. Not tears of sadness or of wonder, just tears. She was frantically wiping them away as they fell, and the breath had been a result of her attempt to hold them back and keep silent.

Immediately his tea was abandoned and he was kneeling on the floor in front of her, taking the cup from her hands before it could spill onto his lap or hers.

"Hermione," he said worriedly, grasping her wrists where her hands covered her face. He stroked the soft skin there, urging her to move her hands. She did, after a moment, revealing her blotchy and damp face. "Why are you crying, you insufferable girl?" He took her hands, holding her small hands in his larger palms.

She laughed and hiccuped at the same time. "I'm being silly," she said. "I- I'm happy. And shocked. And a bit overwhelmed."

"Why?" he asked again, allowing his confusion and frustration to show on his face. "Why would that make you cry?"

Her hands touched his face, holding it in place as her eyes met his. He understood the invitation, whispering the incantation needed to slip into her mind, into the pool of emotions that was currently Hermione Granger.

Severus always forgot how intense emotions had been when he was a teenager, until being in a teenager's mind reminded him. She was a mess, but now an interpretable one. Anger that he hadn't told her sooner, worry for her own safety, worry for his safety, disbelief and rage directed toward Dumbledore, and- that. It was the same fluttery feeling he felt when he looked at her sometimes, the same mix of exasperation and adoration and hope that Hermione caused in him. It was all centered on his face, on his worry, on his mind. There was even a slight thread of lust, a sluggish heaviness in her breasts and belly at the touch of his hands and his nearness.

He left her mind as quickly as he had come.

"You understand, don't you?" Hermione asked, her words tumbling over and across each other. "You get it?"

There was nothing else for him to do but pull her down to him, so that she was sitting on his lap rather than in the chair, and kiss her deeply. She responded enthusiastically, winding her arms around his neck and pressing closer to him.

It was surreal to Severus, this creature in his arms, his, all his. So precious, so bright, so beautiful. If he could take her and run away with her he would, he would protect them both and never let anyone try to dim her brilliance. He would live forever as her worshiper. Even here, he couldn't believe it. He kissed her lips, her forehead, her eyes, her nose. He touched her hair and her back and her arms reverently, lost in his Hermione.

No one else felt this way about him. No one. It was her and her alone and that made her special and wonderful and capable of inspiring in him a devotion unlike any other. He felt like he would do anything if it meant that she would still love him.

There might have been something in all that Dumbledore said about the power of love.

When he had pulled away from her gently, she responded by curling into his hold and resting her head on his chest, right over the thumping of his heart.

"Let's stay here for a while," she said, voice lazy with contentment. "Just for a moment."

The floor was hard and the chair behind him was not softer, but he could not refuse her. Instead, he twitched his fingers, calling a blanket from its place hanging over the back of the sofa. "Your hands are cold," he murmured. She just laughed into his shirt, moving closer to him.

"Talk more," she ordered. "Your voice is even lovelier when I can feel the vibrations like this."

Startled, he shifted uncomfortably. Hermione shifted with him, moving so that her head was tucked into the crook of his neck. He cradled her automatically, holding her close.

"What would you like me to say?" he asked, keeping his voice low, as her ear was right by his mouth.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Whatever you'd like," she answered, her breath warm on his skin. "Potions, perhaps."

Just to indulge her, he began speaking about his research, about the early workings of the Alertness and Stamina potion he was brewing. She knew most of it already, but he told her anyway. About the trials and the exact color the base needed to be and the angles and ratios of the corkscrew steam spirals it needed to give off.

Severus talked and he stroked her hair and he reveled in the novelty of having a warm body so eagerly pressed against his. He spoke until his voice began to crack and it didn't even matter because the woman against him was breathing evenly and deeply.

The only thing left to do was charm the wood floor a bit softer and lean against the armchair, and fall asleep with Hermione Granger in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 28. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I know I'm behind on replying to comments but I'll get to it soon, promise. I love each comment and kudo!
> 
> See you on Saturday.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Much of his chapter is taken directly from OOTP - with Hermione's thoughts added. Many thanks to my beta, Sorasradust!

**_Chapter 29_ **

For all that he did, the castle was worse without Dumbledore.

The dissolution of the DA had been beyond anything Hermione could have ever expected. She hadn't thought betrayal would be possible with the spell she had placed on the parchment that bound them all together. It had been supposed to foster group spirit and a sense of commitment- but Hermione had underestimated Marietta. She had not been one of the ones Hermione had handpicked, and for a reason too- her thrice-damned mother.

So much was ruined, now. Harry's support group was defeated, there was no proper Headmaster in the castle, and Umbridge was ruling with an iron fist.

Severus had been furious for three weeks, intensified by what Harry had seen in the Pensieve. "We were goddamn lucky that the first memory he saw was of my fifth year and he was too preoccupied with his parents to notice anything else," he had hissed angrily at Hermione, pacing with his robes flapping ominously behind him. "The next memory was of my interactions with his mother, and then-"

He stopped himself, but Hermione was curious. "And then what?" she had probed cautiously, a bit wary of his temper.

"Then the two of us," he had snapped. "I doubt very much that Potter would have been able to leave my office without cursing me after he saw me snogging you against a wall."

Hermione had colored, raising a hand to her warm cheeks. "Oh," she had said in a voice that resembled a squeak. "Oh. Yes. Good thing, then."

"I don't want to see the idiot alone again," Severus had said dismissively. "You will have to take over his lessons from now on."

"Of course," Hermione had sighed. "I told Dumbledore that something would happen sooner or later and it just happened to occur after he left. I'll keep working with Harry."

At least the Easter holiday made it easier for Severus; there were no classes so he didn't have to face the son of the man who humiliated him as a child. Hermione enjoyed them as well, using her time during the day with Harry and Ron and on the flip side spending most of her time with Severus, curled up in her chair with reports floating around her as she copied and sorted them. The Potions Master sat at his desk and graded papers or in his chair, doing calculations for his potions project. When his potion was simmering for hours or reducing, he read with a cup of tea at his elbow. Sometimes, when the reports could wait, they read together.

Those were some of the most relaxing afternoons and evenings and nights. It has started after the one day when she had fallen asleep to his voice, warm in his arms and in his love (no matter if he called if affection or regard or just liking she had seen into his mind and felt his emotions and had been floored and honored and joyous) with the sound of his voice in her head and rumbling through her bones. It had been glorious, beautiful, calming.

They had woken up in the middle of the night, stiff and a bit sore but... quiet. Together. She had twisted in his arms and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck before untangling herself and leaving. Her back was still warm where it had been pressed against his front and she was still full of the smell of him and the warmth of him and the comfort that the hard chest and soft blanket had filled her with.

When she was standing and he was sprawled on the floor, his limbs askew and sleep and confusion still on his face. It was only an instant before the confusion melted off and Severus' alertness was upon his visage once more, but in that instant, she had looked down on him like a child. It was plain on his face that he was missing her and her warmth and with his legs sprawled before him and his head cocked to the side in want and not knowing he had been a beautiful boy, a young man who was still a youth, a god with an open face who had fallen asleep in a field and awoken without his lover. She looked upon that god with a tenderness that swelled and made her heartache with a wish to hold him and return to his warmth, their shared warmth.

Of course then when he tilted his head the other way and the sparse light from the fireplace embers hit his face and he was no longer that youthful innocent but Severus Snape, the man she had always known, that had been with her and by her side and guiding her for years. Stern face, harsh nose, mouth that belayed its softness with the cruel words it so often spewed. And those eyes, dark and wanting and violently sure.

He had stayed there, prone, exposed, watching her leave.

That memory stayed buried, something she only thought about when she woke in the middle of the night and her bed was cold and her legs were cold and she was lonely. Then she remembered that one night- not even a full night, just a few hours- of quiet and sleep and warmth.

It also flooded her senses when she listened to him read to her, his voice smooth and deep and beautiful. She would curl up in her chair and listen to him, watch the way his long fingers turned the pages or how his face softened a bit when he read.

Once or twice she took the book from him, reading when he was tired and he closed his eyes and just listened to her voice. The first time this happened he fell asleep in his chair- not fully asleep, more of a light doze that ended the moment Hermione stopped reading.

It floored her anyway- that not once but twice this spy, this man for whom every moment was a potential danger, had trusted her enough to sleep in her presence. She loved him more for it, these quiet moments of calm and trust within a school that was turning madder and madder each day.

O.W.L.s were fast approaching and Hermione was glad that she already knew the material she would be tested on backwards and forward. It would be easy to excel but harder to appear normal.

"Don't be normal," Severus advised "You need to be brilliant. You need to scare some people. And perfect O.W.L. scores will give you something to get a job with later in life."

"What did you get?" she asked, turning the page of her book without looking up at him.

He gave her a rare smile. "I'll tell you when you get your results," he informed her loftily. "I don't want you setting goals that are too high."

She scowled and went back to her books. "Or you don't want me trying to beat you in everything," she muttered, earning her a small laugh.

Harry did a few stupid things in the time after Dumbledore left. It was obviously difficult for Harry, Dumbledore leaving after ignoring him all year. However, that sympathy did not extend to breaking into the Headmistress' office, nevermind if that Headmistress was Umbridge and there was a "perfectly good reason".

Fred and George Weasley left Hogwarts on the first Monday after the Easter holidays. Hermione was sad to see them go, despite the fact that they had been little burrs on her side for the past several years. That Marauder's Map alone was enough to give her conniptions- she had been forced to seek the help of Sirius and Remus, the Map's creators, in order to create a spell that would leave her blind to the map's tracking charm. She used it whenever she was visiting Severus, almost second nature by that point.

But despite that, the school shrunk further. First Dumbledore, then two more strong personalities.

It was two more weeks before there was yet another surprise. This surprise was somewhat larger than the others, and went by the name of Grawp. The first time Hagrid showed them the half-giant, he had given Hermione a thinly veiled significant look that told her that he didn't particularly want the Order knowing about his brother. Hermione had sworn (using some words that made Harry looked at her with shock) under her breath and then sighed and accepted it. Severus was the one who was outraged.

"A bloody giant! In the fucking Forbidden Forest!" he had shouted, a furious light in his dark eyes "Is Hagrid raving mad? Or just unbelievably fucking stupid?"

As much as she liked Hagrid, she had to admit that if she hadn't been as fond of the half-giant she would have made the same accusations. "Grawp could be useful," she hedged. "If used in the right way. We'll just need to incorporate him into our back up plans."

Severus had shaken his head. "Bloody fucking giant in the Forbidden Forest," he had muttered.

The next day when Ron said the exact same sentence when Harry and Hermione had told him, Hermione had to hide a giggle.

But O.W.L.s were fast approaching, as was the culmination of a plan Severus was slowly working on ferreting out from the Dark Lord and his fellow Death Eaters.

Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange were collaborating with the Dark Lord on a special project. They were gleefully aware that Severus was not to be informed of the plan, and were lording it over him at every opportunity. He was well aware that something that was to affect Harry greatly was underway and he was also very aware that any blatant attempt on his own part to find out what it was would be regarded by the Dark Lord as a sign of his disloyalty.

One night in early June, in the midst of testing, Severus was called away at four in the afternoon and was gone until six the next morning. Hermione found him during lunch to take his report and offer the use of her Time-Turner so that he could sleep.

"No, no," he had said brusquely. "I don't need it. I have my potion. I'll just sleep early tonight."

She sighed and nodded. "Fine. So what did he need?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "He let me know that he was planning something involving the Ministry. Knowing what we know, I am certain it is the Department of Mysteries. He said that he needed my aid in getting the strangest thing- memories and photos, current ones, of Sirius Black."

That surprised Hermione, who had been expecting almost anything but. "What an odd request," she murmured. "What did you show him?"

"My most recent memories of Black, of course," Severus snapped. "I tried to avoid the memory of the Occlumency lessons, but he saw it. He remembered you."

_ Ah, _ thought Hermione.  _ That would explain his particularly intense gaze and the furrow in that brow of his. _ "He's known who I am," she reminded him.

Severus scowled at her. "He didn't know you would be as forward as to touch me. He is curious, which is the last thing we want, Hermione."

He continued with his report, and she continued to take it down, the only sounds in the room being his voice flowing and the nib of her quill scratching at her reports notebook.

When the lunch hour ended, they both started. Severus stood, weariness evident in his face for only a moment before he pulled an expressionless mask over his face. Hermione followed suit, heaving her overly large bookbag over her shoulder.

On impulse, she reached out and hugged him, slipping an arm around his waist. "It's okay, Severus," she said quietly. "I probably won't see you tonight, so get some rest. Get in bed at a decent hour."

He had stiffened when she touched him, but carefully returned the embrace for a moment. "Why won't you come to see me?" he asked.

"Because you need to sleep," she said sternly. "I'm not going to keep you up."

His nose was pressed to the top of her head, and his arm around her shoulders was heavy and comforting. "And if I wanted you to keep me up?"

"I would tell you that you were being silly and needed rest more than you needed incessant Gryffindor chatter." Hermione answered. She took a breath, adoring the smell of Severus and potions and herbs. "And I have my Astronomy O.W.L. tonight and I don't want to use my Time Turner any more than necessary."

"Fine then," he said, a touch of grumpiness in his voice. "Off with you."

She went off, a touch of giddiness in her belly.

That night Hagrid was attacked and left with Fang. McGonagall tried to prevent it, and fell with four Stunners to the chest.

Without them, the castle felt even emptier.

* * *

Busy scribbling at her History of Magic O.W.L., Hermione didn't notice when Harry fell asleep. She was three to the right and four seats up from him, her back to the boy savior. But she did notice when there was a thump approximately four seats back and three to the left. She whipped around her seat to see Harry sprawled on the floor, eyes wide and breathing hard. Through the fringe of dark hair on his forehead, she could see the stark red outline of his scar, swollen and red.

_ The Dark Lord's plan, _ Hermione realized, a sinking cold feeling deep in her belly.  _ Today. This is it. _ She could only hope that Harry wouldn't go off without her and Ron. He was in no condition to do so, as he had to be helped out of the Great Hall by one of the examiners.

Hermione tried to crush down the panic that was threatening to rise up and consume her in a wave of cold fear, starting deep in her belly and spreading outward to her numbing, ink-stained hands.

"Nevermind that!" another examiner chirruped. "You have less than twenty minutes left! Continue!"

Hermione finished the last two questions with answers that were much less fleshed out than her other ones, her mind more on Harry and on Severus. She needed to warn him- but she couldn't use her wand here on her watch, not in the middle of an exam. She also didn't know if she could use wandless magic, or if the examiners would detect it and rule her test void. If they caused a fuss that would mean Harry would get impatient and leave.

When the test was declared finished and the examiners had finished taking an agonizingly slow time in collecting the tests, Hermione was able to leave, almost bolting out of the room ahead of the rest of the fifth year students. To her relief, Harry was waiting for her and Ron outside the Great Hall. He looked frantic and out of breath, and the scar on his forehead was still a bright red.

"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand and towing her away. Hermione reached out and grabbed Ron's wrist, dragging him with her as Harry pulled them through a twisting set of corridors to an empty classroom.

When the door was shut and the only sound was their breathing stirring the dusty air, Harry faced them and spoke. "Voldemort's got Sirius."

"What?"

"How d'you -?"

She and Ron had spoken at the same time. Harry looked in no mood to elaborate, heaving a great sigh before saying, "Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam."

"But - but where? How?" said Hermione, feeling the blood draining from her face.  _ The Dark Lord made him fall asleep from miles away. And showed him- Sirius, apparently. _

"I dunno how," Harry said, voice shaking. "But I know where. The Department of Mysteries, there's a room there with rows of shelves all filled with glass balls. He's at row ninety-seven, with Sirius, trying to get what he wants. He's torturing him, and he's going to kill him!" Harry stopped, sitting on a desk. Hermione noticed his hands were shaking. "How're we going to get there?" he asked them.

There was a moment's silence. Then Ron said, "G-get there?"

"Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Sirius!" Harry said loudly.

"But - Harry…" said Ron weakly. Hermione was frozen, her mind trying to race ahead and figure out what to say, what to do.

"What? What?" said Harry.

He looked frantic, unreasonable. "Harry," said Hermione, letting some of her fear leak into her voice, "er… how… how did Voldemort get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realizing he was there?" That was the most logical thing she could find to point out.

"How do I know?" bellowed Harry. "The question is how we're going to get in there!"

"But… Harry, think about this," said Hermione, taking a step towards him, "it's five o'clock in the afternoon… the Ministry of Magic must be full of workers… how would Voldemort and Sirius have got in without being seen? Harry… they're probably the two most wanted wizards in the world… you think they could get into a building full of Aurors undetected?" It was becoming more and more evident that reason might not work.

"I dunno, Voldemort used an Invisibility Cloak or something!" Harry shouted. "Anyway, the Department of Mysteries has always been completely empty whenever I've been -"

"You've never been there, Harry," said Hermione quietly. "You've dreamed about the place, that's all." She knew how real the dreams seemed to him, but they weren't true dreams. They were the Dark Lord projecting images into his brain and that was all.

"They're not normal dreams!" Harry shouted in her face, standing up and taking a step closer to her in turn. He wanted to shake her, she could see it in his eyes and his mind. "How d'you explain Ron's dad then, what was all that about, how come I knew what had happened to him?"

"He's got a point," said Ron quietly, looking at Hermione.  _ Of course, back him up now when it is vital that he not go! _

"But this is just — just sounds unlikely." said Hermione desperately. "Harry, how on earth could Voldemort have got hold of Sirius when he's been in Grimmauld Place all the time?"

"Sirius might've cracked and just wanted some fresh air," said Ron, sounding worried. "He's been desperate to get out of that house for ages -"  _ Now is NOT the time, Ronald! _

"But why," Hermione persisted, "why on earth would Voldemort want to use Sirius to get the weapon, or whatever the thing is?" It made no sense to her- Sirius wasn't part of the prophecy, he couldn't pick it up any more than Bodrick Bode could have. The only reason Voldemort would have taken Sirius to the Department of Mysteries would be to lure Harry there.

"I dunno, there could be loads of reasons!" Harry yelled at her. "Maybe Sirius is just someone Voldemort doesn't care about seeing hurt -"  _ Of course that's true, Harry, but you don't know anything! _

You know what, I've just thought of something," said Ron in a hushed voice. "Sirius' brother was a Death Eater, wasn't he? Maybe he told Sirius the secret of how to get the weapon!"  _ Hogwash. _

"Yeah - and that's why Dumbledore's been so keen to keep Sirius locked up all the time!" said Harry. He gave Ron an appreciative look, one of camaraderie. Ron swelled, but Hermione gave a short screech of anger.

"Look, I'm sorry," cried Hermione, "but neither of you is making sense, and we've got no proof for any of this, no proof Voldemort and Sirius are even there -"

"Hermione, Harry's seen them!" said Ron, rounding on her. He and Harry, standing next to each other, were facing her down. It was like a nightmare she had endured before, of the two of them joining against her to do some stupid thing that would get them all killed.

"Okay," she said, drawing herself up to her full height. "I've just got to say this -"

Harry recognized the confrontational tone and posture. "What?"

"You have a saving people thing, Harry," she said calmly. "This is not a personal criticism, but it’s something I've noticed."

He glared at her. "And what's that supposed to mean, 'a saving people thing’?"

"Last year, for instance, in the lake during the Tournament. You didn't need to save that little Delacour girl. You got a bit carried away."

A wave of hot, prickly anger swept through Harry’s body; how could she remind him of that blunder now? Hermione felt it at the same time he did, through their eye contact.

"I mean, it was really great of you and everything," said Hermione quickly, feeling her confidence draining just as she needed it. The Hermione of her second year would be positively petrified at the look on Harry's face. "Everyone thought it was a wonderful thing to do -"

"That's funny," said Harry through gritted teeth, "because I definitely remember Ron saying I'd wasted time acting the hero… is that what you think this is? You reckon I want to act the hero again?"

"No, no, no!" said Hermione, looking aghast. "That's not what I mean at all!"  _ Gods, he just isn't getting it. _

"Well, spit out what you've got to say, because we're wasting time here!" Harry shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. Ron winced.

"I'm trying to say that the Dark Lord knows you, Harry!" Hermione said furiously. "He took Ginny down into the Chamber of Secrets to lure you there, it's the kind of thing he does, he knows you're the - the sort of person who'd go to Sirius's aid! What if he's just trying to get you into the Department of Myst—?"

"Hermione, it doesn't matter if he's done it to get me there or not - they've taken McGonagall to St. Mungo's, there isn't anyone from the Order left at Hogwarts who we can tell, and if we don't go, Sirius is dead!"

She decided not to mention Severus, knowing that Harry's current mood would not react favorably to the mention of the Potions Master. "But Harry - what if your dream was - was just that, a dream?" She softened her voice, appealing to him with kindness, with softness.

Harry let out a roar of frustration. Hermione actually stepped back from him, her heart jumping into her throat. Harry's green eyes were alight with anger and through their maintained eye contact she could feel it surging at her, wishing to take her by the shoulders and shake her...

"You don't get it!" Harry shouted at her. "I'm not having nightmares, I'm not just dreaming! What d'you think all the Occlumency was for, why d'you think Dumbledore wanted me prevented from seeing these things? Because they're REAL, Hermione - Sirius is trapped, I've seen him. Voldemort's got him, and no one else knows, and that means we're the only ones who can save him, and if you don't want to do it, fine, but I'm going, understand? And if I remember rightly, you didn't have a problem with my saving people thing when it was you I was saving from the Dementors or Voldemort or -" he rounded on Ron "- when it was your sister I was saving from the Basilisk -"

Anger rose up in her at his words.  _ It has been me who's been saving your sorry arse for years and you don't even know what I've sacrificed for you! You arse, you bloody arse! _

"I never said I had a problem!" said Ron heatedly.

"But Harry, you've just said it," said Hermione fiercely, "Dumbledore wanted you to learn to shut these things out of your mind, if you'd done Occlumency properly like I've been teaching then you'd never have seen this -"

"IF YOU THINK I'M JUST GOING TO ACT LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN -"

"Sirius told you there was nothing more important than you learning to close your mind!" Hermione cried back. "I've been telling you and Dumbledore's been telling you! If you won't listen to us, then what about him?"

"WELL, I EXPECT HE'D SAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT IF HE KNEW WHAT I'D JUST-"

The classroom door opened. Harry, Ron and Hermione whipped around. Ginny walked in, looking curious, closely followed by Luna, who as usual looked as though she had drifted in accidentally.  _ Fuck, _ thought Hermione.  _ More people. _

"Hi," said Ginny uncertainly. "We recognized Harry's voice. What are you yelling about?"

"Never you mind," said Harry roughly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "There's no need to take that tone with me," she said coolly, "I was only wondering whether I could help."

"Well, you can't," said Harry shortly.

"You're being rather rude, you know," said Luna serenely.

"Wait," said Hermione suddenly. "Wait… Harry, they can help."  _ We need to get time to calm down and get real information. Sirius may be there- I doubt it but he might be- and we need all the help we can get if we are to coordinate this properly. If I can stall Harry while I get the Order ready and warned... _

Harry and Ron looked at her. "Listen," she said urgently, "Harry, we need to establish whether Sirius really has left Headquarters."

"I've told you, I saw -"

One part of her wanted nothing more than to shout that she didn't give a rat's arse what he had seen, that she didn't believe it was true for a second, but that was not the tactic to take at this moment. "Harry, I'm begging you, please!" said Hermione desperately. "Please let's just check that Sirius isn't at home before we go charging off to London. If we find out he's not there, then I swear I won't try to stop you. I'll come, I'll d - do whatever it takes to try and save him."

"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" shouted Harry. "We haven't got time to waste."

"It's not a waste of time if this turns out to be false," Hermione shot back. At Harry's hurt look, she sighed. "It might be real. But if this is a trick of Voldemort's, Harry, we've got to check, we've got to."

"How?" Harry demanded. "How are we going to check?"

"We'll have to use Umbridge's fire and see if we can contact him," said Hermione, frowning as she tried to work out the logistics of how, exactly, they were going to do that. "We'll draw Umbridge away again, but we'll need lookouts, and that's where we can use Ginny and Luna."

Though clearly struggling to understand what was going on, Ginny said immediately, "Yeah, we'll do it," and Luna said, "When you say 'Sirius', are you talking about Stubby Boardman?"

Nobody answered her.

"Okay," Harry said aggressively to Hermione, "Okay, if you can think of a way of doing this quickly, I'm with you, otherwise I'm going to the Department of Mysteries right now." There was only seriousness in his eyes, and Hermione swallowed hard. It would be difficult to find a way to warn Sirius and keep Harry in her direct sight at all times.

"The Department of Mysteries?" said Luna, looking mildly surprised. "But how are you going to get there?"

Again, Harry ignored her.

"Right," said Hermione, twisting her hands together and pacing up and down between the desks. "Right... well… one of us has to go and find Umbridge and - and send her off in the wrong direction, keep her away from her office. They could tell her - I don't know - that Peeves is up to something awful as usual"

"I'll do it," said Ron at once. "I'll tell her Peeves is smashing up the Transfiguration department or something, it's miles away from her office. Come to think of it, I could probably persuade Peeves to do it if I met him on the way."

It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Hermione made no objection to the smashing up of the Transfiguration department. With McGonagall gone, it wasn't the same anyway. And she would put it back to sorts herself if she needed to.

"Okay," she said, her brow furrowed as she continued to pace. "Now, we need to keep students right away from her office while we force entry, or some Slytherins bound to go and tip her off."

"Luna and I can stand at either end of the corridor," said Ginny promptly, "and warn people not to go down there because someone's let off a load of Garrotting Gas." Hermione was surprised at the readiness with which Ginny had come up with this lie; Ginny shrugged and said, "Fred and George were planning to do it before they left."

"Okay," said Hermione. "Well then, Harry, you and I will be under the Invisibility Cloak and we'll sneak into the office and you can talk to Sirius -"

"He's not there, Hermione!" Harry snapped.

Hermione glared right back. "I mean, you can - can check whether Sirius is at home or not while I keep watch, I don't think you should be in there alone, Lee's already proved the windows are a weak spot, sending those Nifflers through it."

It appeared he took her determination not to let him out of her sight as an offer of support; either way, he looked at the round and muttered, "I… okay, thanks."

"Right, well, even if we do all of that, I don't think we're going to be able to bank on more than five minutes," said Hermione, feeling relieved that Harry seemed to have accepted the plan, "not with Filch and the wretched Inquisitorial Squad floating around."

"Five minutes will be enough," said Harry. "C'mon, let's go -"

Hermione nodded. "You go and get the Invisibility Cloak and we'll meet you at the end of Umbridge's corridor, okay?"

Harry made to leave, but she reached out and grabbed his arm. "If you leave without me, Harry, you'll regret it," she said in a voice too low for anyone else in the room to hear. "I'll help you- I just want to make sure we're not rushing into a trap."

Harry looked at her for a heartbeat longer, but didn't answer, flinging himself out of the room and beginning to fight his way through the milling crowds outside.

"You guys go on ahead," Hermione told the rest of the group. "I need to- to do something else. I'll be in the corridor waiting for you."

Ron and Ginny gave her identical suspicious looks, but Hermione waved them off. Perhaps it was Luna who was already wandering out the doorway or the determination in Hermione's face, but neither of them questioned her. Before they were gone, Hermione was pulling her Time-Turner from its resting spot between her breasts, flipping it over to give herself two hours. Any more would be dangerous, and she wasn't sure if she would need to use it later that night.

Two hours in the past was in the midst of her O.W.L. in History of Magic, so Hermione had to make doubly sure that no one saw her creeping the corridors. If she had guessed correctly Severus had a prep period that was just ending-

Drat it. Students were already filing into his classroom. There was a fifty percent chance that Severus wasn't already inside, and she didn't know if he would feel his pocket watch from the pocket of his robes. She had to try- she pressed all her urgency into the tap of her wand only to hear a muffled curse from a few feet away.

It was him- Severus was fond of making an entrance in his classrooms and it appeared that he had yet to enter. It appeared that she had put perhaps a bit too much force- there was a charred section in his robe and there was an icy glare directed her way.

She revealed herself, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a small niche despite his temper. "It's today," she said quickly, making eye contact with him. "The Dark Lord's plan- it's happening today."

All of the anger instantly disappeared from Severus' face. "From when did you come?"

"About five," Hermione answered, checking her watch. "Um- yes. Five fifteen. At about five-thirty, we'll be breaking into Umbridge's office-"

Severus held up a hand to stop her. "Wait. Let me give my second years something to do before they start rooting around in my supply cabinet and then we'll talk in my office."

From her usual chair in Severus' office she could hear the silky voice of her spy drawl, "Unlike the fifth years, you do not have O.W.L.s today. However, you do have a surprise test of everything you've learned this term thus far. Get out parchment and quills and put away your cauldron, Ashby, we are not brewing today. I want you to write down everything you remember studying- hopefully, your homework was done on your own and through your own research. Flint, I expect you'll have a … slight difficulty with this task and yet still I insist that you do not look at Gill's paper because if I find  _ anyone _ cheating I will not only give you any marks but I will also give the Headmistress my personal assessment of your character and of your knowledge retention that will give the strong impression that you should be held back a year. Begin!"

When he entered the office the fearsome persona he had just put on display for the students held, wavered, and then dropped completely. "Alright," he said, dropping into his chair. "What, exactly, is happening?"

It was the work of moments to fill him in on what had happened after four in the afternoon. Severus absorbed it all with no outward sign of worry that anyone but Hermione and perhaps Albus Dumbledore would have been able to first notice and then interpret. When she finished, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We are in a dangerous situation, Hermione," he said in a rough voice. "But there might be a way to turn this to our advantage."

Hermione leaned forward, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I'm listening."

"Potter is prepared to rush off to the Department of Mysteries without looking back," Severus said, obviously thinking ahead as he spoke. "There is probably a band of Death Eaters waiting there for him, having slaughtered those on duty at the Ministry after calling away as many as they could. Malfoy probably paid Fudge to short staff the Ministry today so that there would be as few people as possible. Now they sulk in the bowels of the Ministry, waiting. For Potter to come, for him to pick up the prophecy..."

This was nothing new to Hermione. "Yes, yes," she said impatiently. "He, Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, and the Seer are the only ones who can pick up the prophecy." She was quiet for a moment, then began to think out loud. "He can't lure Dumbledore there, it would be impossible. For some reason, he doesn't want to risk taking the prophecy himself. The Seer- she must not be easily accessible or she's dead, so that leaves Harry..." Her mind flashed to a conversation with Severus earlier in the year.

_ Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I agree. Why does Dumbledore even keep Divination as a class? If there was a competent teacher, maybe I'd understand but-" Hermione stopped, clear eyes focused on Snape's face. He felt an urge to look away, but held her gaze. "Severus. There's a reason, isn't there." _

" _ Hermione-" Severus sighed, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "There are things that Dumbledore does that no one can explain." _

_ The bright lights of the potion lab made him look older, wearier. Hermione tilted her head up to look at him. "Severus. There is a reason. And you know it." _

_ He glared at her. "Yes, I do. And you do not." She glared at him in return. _

" _ Is it important?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms. Why would Dumbledore keep an incompetent teacher? He wants to keep her close- she's a Seer, so maybe... but she's never predicted anything big. Unless- the Order is guarding a prophecy. Maybe she knows who made it? _

_ Severus frowned at her. "Yes, it is. No, I'm not telling you. If you want to know this one, you'll have to ask Dumbledore. We are finished here." He enunciated each word clearly, making his tension clear. _

"Of course," she breathed. "The Seer was Tre-"

"Quiet," hissed Severus. "You don't understand what you speak of!"

Hermione leaned back in her chair and raised an eyebrow at him. "Then you'd best explain quickly because I have a nasty feeling I'm going to be risking my life for whatever this prophecy is in a matter of hours."

Severus flinched- she had gotten him. "One moment." He carefully warded the office, blocking all sound in or out, stopping the door, and laying the fire to rest. Once he was sure that no one could listen in, he began to speak. "The prophecy is the reason Potter is what he is," he said tersely. "It foretold the first downfall of the Dark Lord. He only ever heard part of it, the part that told him who and how he would lose. The last part is what he seeks. That deals with the present war and the Final Battle."

There was an even greater solemnity in his words, in his expression, in the tense way he held his body. There was more, she knew, but for now, it was just progress that she had gotten that much. "I think I should hear this prophecy sooner rather than later," she said after a moment, "but not right now."

Severus sneered at her. "Obviously not. We need to plan for tonight."

"Should we try to stop Harry from going to the Ministry?" Hermione asked urgently. "Should we try to stop it?"

They were both quiet, and when their eyes met again it was clear that they had made the same decision. "No," Severus said at last. "This plan we know about in advance. The next, we might not. Here we know the time, the place, and we control when Potter enters the building. They are waiting, we can be on the attack."

"We could also have a chance to destroy the prophecy," Hermione said, nodding. "If it drops when no one sees or hears it. That way... he stops looking for it, or believes that it is still out there and goes crazy looking for it with no hope of success."

Severus sighed. "An option. If you can. But we need to stall for as long as possible. Evening, night if possible."

"I agree," Hermione said, twirling a brown curl around her finger as she thought. "We need to make them wait, make them antsy. The more off-kilter they are, the better the chance that we have."

"And the sooner we can get word to Dumbledore," Severus muttered. "The Order won't go to the Ministry without his order. They would never trust my word."

"And mine?" Hermione asked. "That could work..."

"No," Severus said harshly, a glare not directed at her in his dark eyes. "The complaint society will only listen to him. McGonagall might have convinced them, but..." His glare intensified. "How are we going to stall?"

Hermione grinned, baring her teeth. "Easy," she said. "Like I said, Harry and I are going to be breaking into Umbridge's office shortly. If we get caught..."

It was plain that Severus agreed. "She'll have to question you to find out what you were doing there," he said, tracing the outline of his lips with his index finger. "And when you won't answer truthfully, she'll call for some Veritaserum."

The grin on Hermione's face widened. "And for Veritaserum, she needs a Potions master," Hermione said gleefully. "So she'll call you and then we can 'get a message' to you. Once we can get an official message out, we can leave. I don't know how we'll get there- but knowing Harry something will turn up out of nowhere and we'll get the Ministry. Hopefully, the Order can be there, waiting for us."

"I'll contact Dumbledore, then," Severus said, heaving himself up. "The old bugger is supposed to check in with Black at four, so I'll try to get to him then."

She stood as well, on shaky feet. The fear that had gripped her gut earlier was slowly returning now that the meeting- and the calmness and familiarity that came with planning with Severus- was coming to an end.

"We're probably going to be fighting in the Ministry," Hermione said, looking him right in the eye. "There is a good chance that I could get hurt trying to protect Harry, Severus."

His scowl deepened. "I know that," he snapped.

Hermione moved closer to him, just within his reach. "I could die," she said clearly, maintaining the eye contact. "You could die. Things are getting serious now. Life or death serious."

"Your point being?" he drawled, crossing his arms.

Sometimes he was such an oblivious bastard. "I'm telling you that this isn't the time for might-have-beens," she said firmly. "I'm going to kiss you now and you are going to make it bloody good because it might be goodbye. Just in case."

His expression changed minutely. "You aren't going to die. The Order will be there, and we won't let Potter leave until then."

"Plans change," Hermione countered. "Our plan is going to change. Now- I don't know if I can content myself with 'maybe someday after the war,' anymore, Severus."

His eyes flashed with irritation. "We'll talk about this later. After the shit storm that this battle is going to be."

"Fine," she snapped back in response. Hermione stepped up to him, putting a hand on his chest and pushing herself up on her tip-toes to reach his mouth. If he didn't bend to accommodate her, the best she could do was the side of his jaw or his chin. She huffed in frustration, wound her hands in his hair, and tugged him downward.

The look of surprise on his face was hilarious. She laughed, letting go of his hair. "Sorry," she giggled. "But you weren't cooperating."

He glared, rubbing his scalp. Then he bent down, cupped her bum, and lifted her so that they were at eye level. Her heart rate picked up with the mischievous look on his face. "If only to stop you from ripping my hair out by the roots," he murmured, turning so that they were braced against the wall and he didn't have to bear her full weight.

She didn't answer, but kissed him deeply, enormously pleased when he responded positively. The fear that had been building in her belly calmed and was replaced with heat, desire for Severus. Now that kissing him wasn't such a novel experience she was able to retain her head better. She was aware of more than mouths and tongues, more level headed.

When he put her down, there was a rare smile on his face. "Did that meet your criteria for 'making it bloody good,' my dear?"

Hermione stroked the soft skin of his neck, smiling up at him. "I'm not quite sure..." she hedged. "Would you like another chance?"

"Minx," he growled and kissed her again, doing his very best to leave her breathless. This time when he was far enough away to look at her, there was very definite satisfaction on his face.

She just grinned at him. "Very bloody good," she said happily.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. It only lasted for a moment before the seriousness overcame him again. He pressed a last kiss to her forehead, then pulled away and stalked into his classroom. From his office, she could hear him snap at the students, his Professor Snape persona firmly in place once more.

* * *

Twigs snapped under Hermione's feet. She couldn't see where she was stepping, not with the feeble light of Umbridge's wand far behind her. She just progressed into the Forbidden Forest, determined. So determined. As soon as Severus had left she had put her plan into action

"How much further?" demanded Umbridge angrily from behind Hermione. She grinned viciously, knowing the woman couldn't see her face.

"Not far now!" shouted Hermione, making her voice as sweet as possible even as her terrible grin deepened. They emerged into a dim, dank clearing. "Just a little bit -"

An arrow flew through the air and landed with a menacing thud in the tree just over her head. Hermione stood rabbit still as the air suddenly filled with the sound of hooves. The forest floor was trembling, and Hermione's thoughts were all focused on Harry, Harry-

Umbridge gave a little scream and pushed Harry in front of her like a shield causing Hermione to hiss in anger. Didn't she know that the boy was their only hope of surviving the war alive? Although she would probably support the goddamn Death Eaters and Voldemort's regime-

Harry wrenched himself free of her and turned. Around fifty centaurs were emerging on every side, their bows raised and loaded, pointing at Harry, Hermione, and Umbridge. They backed slowly into the center of the clearing, Umbridge uttering odd little whimpers of terror. Harry looked sideways at Hermione. She was wearing a triumphant smile, and didn't care if he saw it. Her plan had worked.

"Who are you?" said a voice.

A chestnut-bodied centaur called- Hermione searched her memory... Magorian, yes, that was it- was walking towards them out of the circle: his bow, like those of the others, was raised. On Harry's right, Umbridge was still whimpering, her wand trembling violently as she pointed it at the advancing centaur.

"I asked you who  _ are  _ you, human," said Magorian roughly.

"I am Dolores Umbridge!" said Umbridge in a high-pitched, terrified voice. Hermione fought to hide her smile, not to give it away to the centaurs. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and Headmistress and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts!"  _ You just said absolutely the wrong thing, my dear. _

"You are from the Ministry of Magic?" said Magorian, as many of the centaurs in the surrounding circle shifted restlessly. One in the back even reared onto his hind legs, baring his teeth at the group.

"That's right!" said Umbridge, in an even higher voice. "So be very careful! By the laws laid down by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, any attack by half-breeds such as yourselves on a human -"

"What did you call us?" shouted a wild-looking black centaur, whom Harry recognized.

"Bane," he whispered to Hermione.

There was a great deal of angry muttering and tightening of bowstrings around them. Obviously Umbridge had made a fatal mistake. There was a fine line between getting rid of the woman and getting them all killed. "Don't call them that!" Hermione said furiously, but Umbridge did not appear to have heard her.

Still pointing her shaking wand at Magorian, she continued, "Law Fifteen 'B' states clearly that 'any attack by a magical creature who is deemed to have near-human intelligence, and therefore considered responsible for its actions' —"

"'Near-human intelligence'?" repeated Magorian, as Bane and several others roared with rage and pawed the ground. "We consider that a great insult, human! Our intelligence, thankfully, far outstrips your own."

"What are you doing in our Forest?" bellowed the hard-faced grey centaur Harry and Hermione had seen on their last trip into the Forest. "Why are you here?"

"Your Forest?" said Umbridge, shaking now not only with fright but also, it seemed, with indignation. "I would remind you that you live here only because the Ministry of Magic permits you certain areas of land -"

An arrow loosed by the centaur who had reared earlier flew so close to her head that it caught at her mousy hair in passing: she let out an earsplitting scream and threw her hands over her head, while some of the centaurs bellowed their approval and others laughed raucously. The sound of their wild, neighing laughter echoing around the dimly lit clearing and the sight of their pawing hooves was extremely unnerving. Hermione backed into Harry and gripped his hand tightly.

"Whose Forest is it now, human?" bellowed Bane.

"Filthy half-breeds!" she screamed, her hands still tight over her head. "Beasts! Uncontrolled animals!"

Hermione pulled Harry away from her, hoping to distance the two of them in the minds of the centaurs. "Be quiet!" shouted Hermione, but it was too late.

Umbridge pointed her wand at Magorian and screamed, "Incarcerous!" Ropes flew out of midair like thick snakes, wrapping themselves tightly around the centaur's torso and trapping his arms: he gave a cry of rage and reared on to his hind legs, attempting to free himself, while the other centaurs charged.

Harry pulled Hermione to the ground with their linked hand; face down on the Forest floor, they knew a moment of terror as hooves thundered around them, but the centaurs leapt over and around them, bellowing and screaming with rage.

_ On the ground is the most dangerous place to be with hooves stomping all over the place-  _ Hermione thought desperately. All she could do was cast a wandless charm as strong as she could make it over Harry's body.

"Nooooo!" he heard Umbridge shriek. "Noooooo… I am Senior Undersecretary… you cannot - Unhand me, you animals… nooooo!"

Hermione saw a flash of red light and knew she had attempted to Stun one of them. Umbridge screamed very loudly- she had been seized from behind by Bane and lifted high into the air, wriggling and yelling with fright. Her wand fell from her hand to the ground. Harry saw it at the same time as Hermione, but even as he stretched out a hand towards it, a centaur's hoof descended upon the wand and it broke cleanly in half.

"Now!" roared a voice in Harry's ear and a thick hairy arm descended from thin air and dragged him upright. Hermione was pulled to her feet by another rough arm. Over the plunging, many-colored backs and heads of the centaurs, Hermione could see Umbridge being borne away through the trees by Bane. Screaming non-stop, her voice grew fainter and fainter until they could no longer hear it over the trampling of hooves surrounding them.

"And these?" said the hard-faced, grey centaur holding Hermione.

"They are young," said a slow, doleful voice from behind Harry. "We do not attack foals."

"They brought her here, Ronan," replied the centaur who had such a firm grip on Harry. "And they are not so young… he is nearing manhood, this one." He shook Harry by the neck of his robes.

The centaur holding Hermione peered at her face, and cursed in a language she didn't understand. In an instant, a crude stone knife was pressed to her neck. "This one is not a foal! She wears magic to make her appear young!" The knife pressed deeper into her throat. "Remove it!"

She dithered for a moment in her head until the knife pressed harder, drawing blood. "Finite Incantum," she whispered. "There!"

Harry was staring, eyes wide and angry. "Hermione, what-"

Hermione ignored him, thinking as hard and as fast as she could. "Your kind are Seers, are you not?" she called, swallowing against the sharp line of pain at her throat. "You see wars and births and deaths in the stars and the smoke?"

Ronan walked closer to her, saying something the grey centaur that held her. The knife left her throat, but she was still held by a tight hairy arm. "What of it, woman?"

"Then you've seen the rise of the Dark Lord!" exclaimed Hermione, trying to meet his eyes. "You've seen the destruction he will bring to this place if he is not defeated!" She pointed at Harry, eyes beseeching the centaur. "He is the only one who can defeat him!"

Ronan stroked his beard. "And he is still but a foal," he murmured. "We can let him go. Do it!"

The centaur holding Harry glared, but released him. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "I protect him," she said, tears starting to run down her face. "I- I am his guardian. He is in danger, was in danger from that other woman. We need to leave this place-"

"You are not going anywhere," Ronan said, leaning close. "Guardian of the Chosen or no, you still trespassed. You still used us as one uses a plough or the horse that pulls it. You are going nowhere-"

At that moment there came a crashing noise on the edge of the clearing so loud that all of them, Harry, Hermione and the fifty or so centaurs filling the clearing, looked around. Hermione was dropped as her centaur reached for his bow and arrows. Harry hurried toward her as two thick tree trunks parted ominously and the monstrous form of Grawp the giant appeared in the gap.

The centaurs nearest him backed into those behind; the clearing was now a forest of bows and arrows waiting to be fired, all pointing upwards at the enormous greyish face now looming over them from just beneath the thick canopy of branches. Grawp's lopsided mouth was gaping stupidly; they could see his brick-like yellow teeth glimmering in the half-light, his dull sludge colored eyes narrowed as he squinted down at the creatures at his feet. Broken ropes trailed from both ankles.

He opened his mouth even wider. "Hagger." Hermione did not know what 'hagger' meant, or what language it was from, nor did she much care. The danger as in Grawp's feet, which were almost as long as Harry's whole body. Hermione gripped his arm tightly; the centaurs were quite silent, staring up at the giant, whose huge, round head moved from side to side as he continued to peer amongst them as though looking for something he had dropped.

"Hagger!" he said again, more insistently.  _ He wants something called "Hagger,"  _ thought Hermione.  _ Hag- Hagrid! _

"Get away from here, giant!" called Magorian. "You are not welcome among us!"

These words seemed to make no impression whatsoever on Grawp. He stooped a little (the centaurs' arms tensed on their bows), then bellowed, "HAGGER!"

A few of the centaurs looked worried now. Hermione, however, gave a gasp.

"Harry!" she whispered. "I think he's trying to say 'Hagrid-' he hasn't seen him since he left!"

At this precise moment, Grawp caught sight of them, the only two humans in a sea of centaurs. He lowered his head another foot or so, staring intently at them. Hermione was shaking as Grawp opened his mouth wide again and said, in a deep, rumbling voice, "Hermy."

"Goodness," said Hermione, gripping Harry's arm so tightly she wouldn't have been surprised if it was growing numb, "he- he remembered!"

"HERMY!" roared Grawp. "WHERE HAGGER?"

"I don't know!" Hermione shouted back. "I'm sorry, Grawp, I don't know!"

"GRAWP WANT HAGGER!"

One of the giant's massive hands reached down. Hermione let out a real scream, ran a few steps backwards and fell over, pulling Harry down with her. On the ground, they would be harder to pick up. Devoid of a wand, Harry braced himself to punch, kick, bite or whatever else it took as the hand swooped towards him and knocked a snow-white centaur off his legs.

It was what the centaurs had been waiting for — Grawp's outstretched fingers were a foot from Harry when fifty arrows soared through the air at the giant, peppering his enormous face, causing him to howl with pain and rage and straighten up, rubbing his face with his enormous hands, breaking off the arrow shafts but forcing the arrowheads in still deeper. Hermione winced in pain for him, but still pulled Harry back with her as they scrambled to their feet.

Grawp yelled and stamped his enormous feet and the centaurs scattered out of the way; pebble-sized droplets of Grawp's blood showered the pair of them as they ran as fast as they could for the shelter of the trees. Once there they looked back; Grawp was snatching blindly at the centaurs as blood ran down his face; they were retreating in disorder, galloping away through the trees on the other side of the clearing. Harry and Hermione watched Grawp give another roar of fury and plunge after them, smashing more trees aside as he went.

"Oh no," said Hermione, quaking so badly that her knees gave way. "Oh, that was horrible. And he might kill them all."

"I'm not that fussed, to be honest," said Harry bitterly.

The sounds of the galloping centaurs and the blundering giant grew fainter and fainter.

"Smart plan," Harry spat at Hermione, having to release some of his fury. "Really smart plan. Where do we go from here?"

"We need to get back up to the castle," said Hermione faintly. She could see that Harry was going mad from wasting so much time. Already the sky was dark and they could barely see three feet in front of themselves. On the bright side, he wasn't focusing too much on what the centaurs had said, or how she suddenly looked much older than she normally did.

"By the time we've done that, Sirius'll probably be dead!" said Harry, kicking a nearby tree in a temper. A high-pitched chattering started up overhead and he looked up to see an angry Bowtruckle flexing its long twiglike fingers at him.

"Well, we can't do anything without wands," said Hermione hopelessly, dragging herself up again. "Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?"

"Yeah, we were just wondering that," said a familiar voice from behind her. Harry and Hermione moved together instinctively and peered through the trees.

Ron came into sight, closely followed by Ginny, Neville and Luna. All of them looked a little the worse for wear - there were several long scratches running the length of Ginny's cheek; a large purple lump was swelling above Neville's right eye; Ron's lip was bleeding worse than ever - but all were looking rather pleased with themselves.

"So," said Ron, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out Harry's wand, "had any ideas?"  _ Damnit, _ Hermione thought angrily.  _ Our best chance was getting back to the castle after wandering around here for as long as possible. _

"How did you get away?" asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand from Ron.

"Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx," said Ron airily, now handing back Hermione's wand, too. She sighed as the familiar wood touched her hand. She reapplied her Glamour hastily.

Ron was still talking- "But Ginny was best, she got Malfoy - Bat Bogey Hex - it was superb, his whole face was covered in the great flapping things. Anyway, we saw you out of the window heading into the Forest and followed. What've you done with Umbridge?"

"She got carried away," said Harry. "By a herd of centaurs." He and Hermione looked at each other, then looked away. Neither of them wanted to know what was being done with Umbridge at the moment.

"And they left you behind?" asked Ginny, looking astonished.

"No, they got chased off by Grawp," said Harry

"Who's Grawp?" Luna asked interestedly.

"Hagrid's little brother," said Ron promptly. "Anyway, never mind that now. Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know-Who got Sirius or -?"

"Yes," said Harry, as his scar gave another painful prickle, "and I'm sure Sirius is still alive, but I can't see how we're going to get there to help him."

They all fell silent, looking rather scared; the problem facing them seemed insurmountable.

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" said Luna, in the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice Harry had ever heard her use.

"Okay," said Harry irritably, rounding on her. "First of all, 'we' aren't doing anything if you're including yourself in that, and second of all, Ron's the only one with a broomstick that isn't being guarded by a security troll, so -"

"I've got a broom!" said Ginny.

"Yeah, but you're not coming," said Ron angrily.

Hermione let them bicker as she tried to think of a solution. She tapped her watch, concentrating on  _ In Forbidden Forest. Safe. You? _

Her watch warmed in a moment.  _ HQ. Order there. Go. _

She looked up and gasped; standing between two trees, their white eyes gleaming eerily, were two Thestrals, watching the whispered conversation as though they understood every word.

It was only a moment longer before Luna noticed them too. "Yes!" she whispered, moving towards them. They tossed their reptilian heads, throwing back long black manes, and Luna stretched out her hand eagerly and patted the nearest one's shining neck.

"Is it those mad horse things?" said Ron uncertainly, staring at a point slightly to the left of the Thestral Luna was patting. "Those ones you can't see unless you've watched someone snuff it?"

"Yes," said Luna and Hermione at the same time.

"How many?" asked Ron.

"Just two," Luna said dreamily. "You're a handsome one, aren't you?

"Well, we need three," said Hermione, walking toward the other one. She offered a bloody arm for it to lick.

"Four, Hermione," said Ginny, scowling.

"I think there are six of us, actually," said Luna calmly, counting.

Ginny balled her fists in anger. "We're fifteen!" she snapped. "Just as old as Harry is! And sixteen isn't much older!"

Harry frowned at her. "Wait- Hermione, what did that centaur mean when he said you weren't a foal?"

The moment slowed down as she saw all of their eyes on her, questioning, boring into her. She knew this moment as surely as she knew her own name; it was the moment she came clean to them, to her friends. The moment she told them the truth.

This would be the only way they would listen to her, the only way she could make sure that they all would emerge from this alive. She would need to convince them to obey her without question, and to do that they would need to know her position as protector- if not spymaster.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I need to tell you something," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 29. 
> 
> The next few chapters cover the battle at the Ministry... where some things will diverge from canon. I'll update on Wednesday!
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter than the last one, and much of it will be familiar. Thanks again to my beta, Sorasradust!

_**Chapter 30** _

_ Hermione took a deep breath. "I need to tell you something," she said. _

It was crashing in on her, the importance of what she was about to do. Reveal herself, reveal herself to Harry. To Ron. To Ginny, to Luna. To Neville, even. But she couldn't see a way around it. She and Severus had discussed this before, when they had debated telling Harry and Ron about her position, if only so that they would listen to her. The war was progressing so quickly it was unreasonable for Harry to be unaware of his protector- and knowing him, if they were in a dangerous situation together, Harry would be the one trying to protect her instead of the other way around.

Severus had argued many times that it was only hindering her efforts to protect him to keep Harry in the dark. Hermione had stubbornly refused, refused because she was sentimental and wanted to keep his true friendship for as long as possible.

Maybe she could keep this contained- tell only Harry. Perhaps it would work for the moment- Harry would listen to her, and the rest of them would listen to Harry.

"Now?" Harry said heaving a great, frustrated sigh. "We can't waste time, Hermione!"

She let a stream of air out through her mouth. He was making it hard on her, giving her a chance to back out. "No, Harry. Now. Over there." She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the group, putting up anti-eavesdropping spells.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry exclaimed. "Sirius could be-"

She saw no reason to do things in halves; with a swish of her wand and a wordless  _ Finite _ the Glamour was gone. "Look," she said, coming a few steps closer so that her face was in the light. "What do you see?"

Harry squinted at her, aiming his wand so that the light fell on her face. "You're taller," he said, surprised. "And- older? You- Hermione, you don't seem the same."  _ Brilliant, Harry. _

"I’m not, really," Hermione said, pushing the fear out of her voice. "I'm nineteen. I work for the Order. And my main task is making sure you don't go off and do something that will get you hurt and ruin our chances in the fight against the Dark Lord." She gave him a level, clear gaze.

Harry seemed a bit dazed. "How..." His voice trailed off.

"Dumbledore," said Hermione, "gave me this." she pulled her Time-Turner up. "Before Third Year, remember Harry?" The pale gold of the thing shone with its own magic in the depths of the forest. It was deceptively simple, an hourglass that could be turned at will to move one through time.

Harry nodded slowly. He had unconsciously- or consciously, perhaps- sunken into a defensive stance that put Luna and Ginny behind him. That, more than anything, hurt. "Yeah. So?"

"So I've been using it since Third Year," Hermione said, keeping her eyes on Harry. "To learn more things. To take extra lessons, to make sure that you were safe."

"I don't need protecting!" shouted Harry. There it was- she had broken the dam of his anger. "Who do you think you are? Dumbledore?"

She walked closer to him. "Do you want to see?" she asked. "When Dumbledore asked me to do this? Do you want to know why I've- how I knew about the Trophy? How I knew how to fight with knives in the graveyard? How I was able to make sure that the Dark Lord didn't take anything from my mind that he could have used to hurt you?"

Harry's eyes were defiant as he stared at her. "Yes," he said finally.

She reached out and held his face still. "You know the incantation," she said. "Do it."

Something passed between them at that moment, an acknowledgement of their years of friendship and trust, perhaps, a memory of a misty graveyard, or the taste of butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks all mashed into one booth. A troll in a girl's bathroom, a troll between them and the stone. Whatever it was, Harry's face cleared and Hermione dropped her shields.

"Legilimens," he said, after the briefest pause.

His presence in her mind was feeble, questioning. She let him inside her mind, encircling his weak presence with her own.

_ Come,  _ she said.  _ I will show you. _

" _ Miss Granger," Dumbledore said warmly. "Please, sit. Would you like a lemon drop?" She dropped into the seat he waved at, but shook her head at the candy. _

" _ No, thank you," she said, blushing faintly. "Sugar is quite bad for the teeth." Her blush deepened, and she ducked her head. It was awkward, the feeling like once again she had blundered and said something that didn't belong in the Wizarding World, that she was out of place and out of time. _

_ Dumbledore tucked the candy away. "Do you know why I called you here, Miss Granger?" he asked, breaking her self recrimination. _

" _ Harry," she replied immediately, head rising to meet his eyes. "It has to do with Harry Potter." She looked straight at him, eyes narrowed slightly. "He is my best friend," she said slowly, "Which makes a slight bit of trouble for you." He would want the Boy-Who-Lived to be the best in the class, I'm betting. _

" _ Quite the opposite, actually," Dumbledore countered. "But yes, Harry is the reason we are here on this fine morning." _

_ Just then, Professor Snape entered the room, as dramatic as ever with his robes billowing and a scowl on his face. "I was busy, Headmaster," he drawled. "But I am here now, so can we please make this quick?" His eyes darted to where Hermione sat, dark and treacherous. _

" _ Professor Snape," Dumbledore said with a smile, eyes flashing in a warning. "Just the man I wanted to see. I was just explaining to Miss Granger-" _

" _ You haven't explained anything," Snape snapped. "Or she wouldn't be sitting here, docile as a lamb." He sneered at her, and Hermione wanted to sink back into her chair. A trickle of irrational- or not?- fear spilt along the knobs of her spine. _

_ With a huff, he turned to face her. "Miss Granger," he said brusquely, "The Headmaster asked you to his office today, not to talk about your…" he let his voice trail off before adding a slight stress to his next word. "Remarkable scores. Indeed, he wants to ask you to put your life in danger by becoming a bodyguard, so to speak, for the walking trouble magnet named Potter." _

_ She looked up at him, then at Dumbledore. "Is that true?" she asked, voice shaking. "What exactly is it you want me to do?" I'm about as far away from a bodyguard of any sorts as you can get, she thought. _

_ Dumbledore glared at Severus, before turning his attention to the girl-child and answering her question. "Take extra classes and training over the summer, and when you are back in school. Learn defensive spells and offensive spells that can be used in situations like the ones Mr. Potter has found himself in last year and this year." _

" _ You want me to learn extra magic so I can help Harry more if he gets into trouble?" Hermione asked, relief in her voice. "Of course I'd want to help. I've done what I can so far, but if I can learn more-" _

" _ Don't run into this blind," Snape warned, cutting her off. "What the Headmaster isn't saying is that you will learn other techniques, such as the art of manipulation and lying." His lip curled at the shock on her face. "The Dark Lord is not truly vanquished, Miss Granger," he said smoothly. "Every day, he gets closer to returning. You cannot reveal your status to Potter or Weasley. You must learn how to defend your mind from intrusion, how to fight with or without a wand, and how to protect without seeming to protect. It is important you know that in defending Potter, you may die." _

_ Fear was echoing in her mind, but Hermione squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. "But this will help keep Harry safe?" _

" _ Yes," Dumbledore replied before Severus had a chance to open his mouth again. "Harry is in constant danger. If you learn these things, and just stay by his side, you can make sure that no one harms our only hope." _

_ Hermione's mouth tilted up in a kind of bitter grin. As out of place as it should have appeared on the face of a thirteen-year-old, it fit both the girl and the situation. "May I speak frankly, Professor?" she asked. _

" _ Of course," Dumbledore said. His smile seemed frozen, cold, waiting. _

_ She nodded at Professor Snape, then spoke. "I have the feeling you are feeding me a pile of dragon dung and calling it treacle tart, Professor," she said annoyance dripping into her tone even as her voice wavered. "I'll do it- but, but not because someone needs to defend 'our only hope.' I am always interested in learning more, but to top that, Harry is my best friend. I'd do anything to keep him safe anyway." Even though she stammered through it, she met the Headmaster's icy blue eyes and promptly blushed. "Sir." _

" _ Very well," Dumbledore said at last. "Someone will come to pick you up at your parent's house two days after the break begins. I will need that long to get you special dispensation for you to use a wand outside of the school." _

Sharing the memory took the space of a moment. She released Harry, letting him reel back, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. "Sorry, but we do have a bit of a time constraint, here," she said, rubbing her own temples.

Harry straightened, breathing hard. "So- that was-"

"Second year," Hermione answered promptly. "After I was un-petrified. And from there it's been about six years of extra training and classes and fighting."

It was excruciating, waiting for him to speak, to say something that would let her know what was going on in his mind. "Why- why are you telling me this now?"

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding. This, at least, was a question she could answer. "We are going into a dangerous situation, Harry," she said quietly. "I wanted to make sure that you understand that you are the most important person to protect here. We cannot have any heroics- we are coming with you to save Sirius but if you die the war is lost. If Sirius dies, you are heartbroken but we can still defeat the Dark Lord. None of us matter in the grand scheme of things, except for you."

"I refuse to accept that," Harry said harshly. "I won't let-"

"I won't let you die and condemn the rest of us!" Hermione snapped. "So if I tell you to do something you'd better fucking do it because this is  _ real,  _ Harry. There are going to be Death Eaters there, the Dark Lord himself, maybe. There are going to be Order members, which means a lot of fighting. But above all, you need to stay safe!"

Harry was glaring at her, fury in every line of his body. "So why don't you just knock me on the head and leave me here and do the 'saving people' yourself?"

"Don't think I haven't thought about it," Hermione countered, feeling her own anger rise. "But this is a chance for you to experience some fighting in a real situation, get some experience leading people, and to see how a battle is fought. And the Dark Lord would get suspicious if Order members show up but no Harry Potter. That would put our spy in danger and we can't afford that." Her heart clenched at the thought of the Dark Lord punishing Severus for her, or Harry's, mistake.

She could see all the usual signs of nervousness in Harry- the fidgeting, the constant ruffling of his hair, the quick and hesitant glances. Hermione sighed. "I didn't want to tell you," she said honestly. "I just wanted you to go on thinking of me like your friend who just happens to be good at a lot of defensive spells. But- if something happens, I want you to know the truth from my lips. And I want to make sure you listen to me as Hermione the experienced Order member rather than Hermione the bookworm."

"Experienced?" Harry asked, confused.

"Duels," Hermione replied. "A few. Not too many. But I have a good idea of what will be happening tonight, so while I'm fine with letting you take the lead, if I shout something, listen, please." Her hand rose to fiddle with the pearl at her throat, a sign of her own nervousness.

Harry glanced back at where their friends were waiting, all visibly curious about what was going on. "Fine," he said finally. "You're explaining more about this after tonight."

"And don't tell them," she said, reaching out to grab his arm as he turned away from her. "Please."

There was a softness in Harry's eyes that had been absent before. "Yeah," he said. "For now, yeah."

In the time they had been talking- a short time, terribly short- more Thestrals had come, enough for all six of them.

She followed, after taking a moment to tap her watch and leave Severus a message.  _ Revealed to Harry. Leaving now.  _ A moment more to restore the Glamour, and she was taking her proper place at Harry's side and clambering onto a Thestral.

It was time to head for the Ministry.

* * *

The voice came out of the shadows the moment Harry's fingers closed around the dusty glass ball. "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me." It was as if her spine had turned to cold water, abandoning her without support and leaving only the feeling of icy fear.  _ I messed up we shouldn't have let this happen we shouldn't have come here what were Severus and I thinking _

She should have made them turn around the moment she saw that the Atrium was empty. She had simply thought the fighting had moved down. When the Department of Mysteries was abandoned as well, she should have stopped them there.

It was obvious now that no Aurors were in the building, no one was there to save them from the black shapes that were emerging out of thin air all around them, blocking their way left and right; eyes glinted through slits in hoods, a dozen lit wand tips were pointing directly at their hearts. Ginny gave a gasp of horror that echoed Hermione's own feelings.  _ Where is Severus? And the Aurors? _ she wondered helplessly, watching as their leader came to stand in the front.  _ They were supposed to be here... _

"To me, Potter," repeated the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy as he held out his hand, palm up. His blonde hair, almost white, glinted in the light. His mouth was stretched in a politician's smile, cold and merciless. The other shapes had fallen behind him willingly, except for one, a woman's shape, that hovered just at his elbow. A quick count of the figures told her that they were outnumbered two to one.

"To me," said Malfoy yet again. The outstretched hand beckoned with two fingers.

"Where's Sirius?" demanded Harry. Hermione felt a small corner of her heartbreak as she realized that he didn't get it yet.  _ We were tricked. It was a trap. Unless help arrives, we're not all getting out of here safe and sound. You are, but not all of the rest of us. _

Several of the Death Eaters laughed. A harsh female voice- far from the midst of the shadowy figures to Harry's left, no, it was the one at Malfoy's elbow- said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"

"Always," echoed Malfoy softly, a more sincere light gleaming in his eye. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Sirius is!" Harry’s voice was growing higher and more childish. Hermione couldn't look at his face anymore, too young and too open with pain.

"I want to know where Sirius is!" mimicked the woman.

She and her fellow Death Eaters had closed in so that they were mere feet away from Harry and the others, the light from their wands dazzling Hermione's eyes. They were too close- she wanted to back away, to protect Harry at all costs. She moved closer to him, keeping her face from the light.

"You've got him," insisted Harry. "He's here. I know he is."

"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo," said the woman in a horrible, mock baby voice. Ron stirred on the other side of Harry, angry for his friend.

"Don't do anything," Harry muttered. "Not yet -"

The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter. It wasn't soft laughter or controlled, it was the cackling of the mad. That, more than anything else, told Hermione who the woman was. Bellatrix Lestrange. She clenched her hands in her robes, willing them to stop shaking.

"You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!" She cackled again, and Hermione let out a shaky breath. This would be the one she would try to take out first. She was the most dangerous- her or Lucius.

"Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," said Malfoy softly. "He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter." Hermione felt Harry stiffen next to her as she heard her own words echoed back to her.  _ "You've got a saving people thing..." _

"I know Sirius is here," said Harry, sounding as though panic was causing his chest to constrict and he could not breathe properly. "I know you've got him!" More of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman laughed loudest of all.

Hermione laid a hand on Harry's arm. "You know he's not here, Harry," she said quietly. "It was a trap." She had to say it, even though it drew eyes to her. She looked up and met the eyes of those who looked at her squarely.

Bellatrix gasped theatrically, moving closer. "Is  _ this _ the little girlie who defeated you and yours in the graveyard, Lucius?" she asked, a yellowing smirk stretching her withered cheeks. "This little slip of a lass?"

"Yes," Hermione answered plainly, letting her hand fall from Harry's arm to where her knife sheaths were. She ignored Bellatrix as the woman threw her head back and laughed again, to Malfoy's annoyance.

"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," said Malfoy, throwing an irritated glare at his sister-in-law. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on, then," said Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the five wands of Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna rose on either side of him. Hermione could taste the futility of their stand, she could see how easily they would all fall.

But the Death Eaters did not strike.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," said Malfoy coolly.  _ Liar, _ thought Hermione furiously.

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "Yeah, right!" he said. "I give you this - prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?" She could hear in his voice, his own realization of the predicament in which he had planted them.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the Bellatrix shrieked: "Accio proph—"

Harry was just ready for her: he shouted "Protego!" before she had finished her spell, and though the glass sphere slipped to the tips of his fingers he managed to cling on to it. Hermione's breath rose to the top of her lungs and was exhaled in a harsh noise. Behind her, Neville made a sound that was suspiciously like a whimper of relief.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. "Very well, then -"

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Lucius Malfoy roared at the woman. "If you smash it -!" The panic that flashed briefly through his face and held his body rigid gave Hermione an invaluable piece of information. The prophecy was what was important, what would keep them safe.

She turned her head and met Harry's eyes, ducking in his mind to see what he was thinking. Harry's mind was racing. The Death Eaters wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere. He had no interest in it. He just wanted to get them all out of this alive, to make sure none of his friends paid a terrible price for his stupidity…

The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled her hood fully from her face, releasing it to the light rather than the half-shadow it had been cowled in. Azkaban had followed Bellatrix Lestrange's face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow. Her hair had obviously once been luxurious, but was now brittle and dull. Her eyes were large, and if her face had been fresh skinned and dewy they would have been magnificent. "You need more persuasion?" she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Very well - take the smallest one," she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. "Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."

Hermione could remember with shaking fear the way that Severus had returned in the depth the night bleeding from friendly torture from this woman. Not Ginny- she would give herself up before she would let that happen. She moved to close in around Ginny at the same time the rest of their group did, Harry taking the last step to stand right in front of her, clutching the prophecy to his chest.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," he told Bellatrix. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?" She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth. "So," said Harry, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?"

"What kind of prophecy?" repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter." Her tongue darted out again, like the snake Voldemort kept at the base of his throne.

"Nope, not jesting," said Harry, his eyes flicking from Death Eater to Death Eater, looking for a weak link, a space through which they could escape. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses. Hermione knew that the name of their master had just spasmed up their arms, meeting their Dark Mark with pain. She grinned mirthlessly. Good. Anything that distracted them and caused them pain was good in her book.

"You dare speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix. Her glare caught Hermione's smile, and then returned to fixate on Hermione's face.

"Yeah," said Harry, maintaining his tight grip on the glass ball, expecting another attempt to bewitch it from him. "Yeah, I've got no problem with saying Vol—"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare -"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. Now was  _ not  _ the time to antagonize them too much. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle - or has he been telling you lot he's pure-blood?"

Rage lit Bellatrix's face. "STUPEF—"

"NO!"

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. Two figures, pearly-white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak; their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix's shouts.

"… at the solstice will come a new…" said the figure of an old, bearded man.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!" Malfoy was livid, high spots of color brightening his cheeks.

"He dared - he dares -" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently, "he stands there - filthy half-blood -"

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" barked Malfoy.

"… and none will come after…" said the figure of a young woman. Hermione bit her lip. This one looked like one of their informants called Cassandra on the Greek side of Diagon Alley. She had died months ago. Severus had only given a brief explanation- that her mouth had gotten her into trouble.

The two figures that had burst from the shattered spheres had melted into thin air. Nothing remained of them or their erstwhile homes but fragments of glass upon the floor. Hermione stared at them, then at the other shelves. Perhaps... if it was done right...

"You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," he said, playing for time. His voice had the same wheedling tone as it did when he was trying to distract someone, someone like McGonagall from paying attention to Ron while the redhead finished his Transfiguration homework in class. She narrowed her eyes unconsciously, then widened them again. She didn't want to give anything away, not right yet.

"Do not play games with us, Potter," said Malfoy. The spots of color had faded, but the patience was gone from his voice. This scared her even farther. So far, Malfoy seemed like the calmest of their opponents and if he was nearing the end of his rope, it would mean bad things for all of them.

"I'm not playing games," said Harry absentmindedly. He promptly stepped on her foot, causing her to inhale sharply.

"What?" she whispered.

"Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" Malfoy sneered. She scowled at him- the perfect way to distract Harry, just as he seemed to have a plan.

"I - what?" said Harry. "What about my scar?"

"What?" whispered Hermione more urgently behind him. "Now's not the time to get off track!"

"Can this be?" said Malfoy, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and under cover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, "Smash shelves-"

"Dumbledore never told you?" Malfoy repeated. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why -"

"- when I say now-"

She nodded. "Distract them," she whispered back.

"- you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording…"

"Did he?" said Harry. "So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?"

Hermione breathed Harry's plan in Neville's ear, jerking her head at Luna as she passed it on to Ginny, who told Ron. They all looked at each other and nodded.

"Why?" Malfoy sounded incredulously delighted. "Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him."

"And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?"

"About both of you, Potter, about both of you… haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?" Malfoy raised a perfect pale eyebrow, a malevolent grin on his face.  _ He knows he has Harry's curiosity by the balls and he is using it for all it's worth, _ Hermione thought angrily.  _ I knew we should have told Harry about the prophecy before now! _

"Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?" he said quietly, gazing at Lucius Malfoy, his fingers tightening over the warm glass sphere in his hand. It was hardly larger than a Snitch and still gritty with dust. "And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?"

Hermione put her hands behind her back and tapped her wrist with her wand.  _ Danger. DE, come quickly. LM, BL. Hurry. _

"Get it himself?" shrieked Bellatrix, over a cackle of mad laughter. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?"

"So, he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?" said Hermione, throwing a glare at Malfoy. "Like he tried to get Sturgis Podmore to steal it - and Bode? And the three other Ministry officials that have disappeared over the last year?"

"Very good, Potter, very good. Your Mudblood has a brain…" said Malfoy slowly. "But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell—"

"NOW!" yelled Harry.

Five different voices behind him bellowed, "REDUCTO!" Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit; the towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor. Hermione shoved out with her wand, creating a shield that protected their group from the falling glass while shoving over rows and rows of shelves that struck more down like dominoes. One Death Eater was felled by a falling shelf, flattened with a sickening crunch.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to fall from above. He seized a handful of Hermione's robes and dragged her forwards, holding one arm over his head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon them. The glass was repelled by Hermione's shield, but they were still caught in a cloud of dust and pearly light. A Death Eater lunged forwards through the cloud of dust and Harry elbowed him hard in the masked face; they were all yelling, there were cries of pain, and thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon themselves, weirdly echoing fragments of the Seers unleashed from their spheres.

Someone was reaching for Harry, even as Ron, Ginny, and Luna sprinted past Hermione and the other two boys. With a thrill of fear, she saw the hand reach out to grasp Harry's shoulder. It was a moment's work to curse the man until he fell away moaning. She Stunned him to put him out of his misery.

They were at the end of row ninety-seven; Harry turned right and began to sprint in earnest. He was running faster than Neville could, faster than even she, perhaps, could run. She gave as much encouragement as she could to Neville, taking in his red face and gasping breaths with worry. Straight ahead of them the door through which they had come was ajar. The glittering light of the bell jar was visible for a moment before Harry pelted through the doorway, the prophecy still clutched tight and safe in his hand. He waited for Hermione and Neville to hurtle over the threshold before slamming the door behind them. He wasn't even breathing hard, and for that Hermione blessed him and his genes even as she cursed her own stupidity. Where were the Aurors? The main concern now, though, was to outrun the Death Eaters.

"Colloportus!" gasped Hermione and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.

"Where - where are the others?" gasped Harry. "I thought- Ron and Ginny should have come through here. Luna too-"

"They must have gone the wrong way!" whispered Hermione, ice-cold terror in her bones. She had allowed Harry to bring them here, those children, and if they died their blood would be on her hands just as surely as it would be on Harry's.

"Listen!" whispered Neville.

Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door they had just sealed; Harry put his ear close to the door to listen. It was unnecessary, even though the heavy would Hermione could hear Lucius Malfoy roar, "Leave Nott, leave him, I say — his injuries will be nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary - Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left; Crabbe, Rabastan, go right -Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead - Macnair and Avery, through here - Rookwood, over there - Mulciber, come with me!"

Hermione stole a glance at Harry's face, glad to see it was steady. Now was the time to test him."What do we do?" Her voice was steady, even as her hands trembled on her wand. She was scared, too scared. Breathing exercises, Occlumency exercises, would calm her. Now was the time for Harry to prove himself, to show her that he had a plan. That he could be trusted to lead.

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start," said Harry. "Let's get away from this door." They ran as quietly as they could, past the shimmering bell jar where the tiny egg was hatching and unhatching, towards the exit into the circular hallway at the far end of the room. They were almost there when something large and heavy collided with the door Hermione had charmed shut.

"Stand aside!" said a rough voice. "Alohomora!"

"Down!" Hermione shouted, pushing at the boy's backs. As the door flew open, Harry, Hermione and Neville dived under desks. They could see the bottom of the two Death Eaters' robes drawing nearer, their feet moving rapidly.

"They might've run straight through to the hall," said the rough voice.

"Check under the desks," said another.

Harry saw the knees of the Death Eaters bend; poking his wand out from under the desk, he shouted, "STUPEFY!"

A jet of red light hit the nearest Death Eater; he fell backwards into a grandfather clock and knocked it over; the second Death Eater, however, had leapt aside to avoid Harry's spell and was pointing his own wand at Hermione, who was crawling out from under the desk to get a better aim.

"Avada -"

Hermione was having none of that. With a lethal downward slash of her wand, the man fell without a sound. With another swish she had him bound and gagged, and her wand was floating into her palm. She did the same with the Death Eater that Harry had felled.

"Here," she said, tossing one wand to Neville and the other to Harry. "In case something happens to your first wand. Keep these just in case."

They were gaping at her. She scowled back. "This isn't the time to play nice," she hissed. "You get them before they get you and don't be sympathetic. Tie them and gag them if you have the time. Definitely take their wands. It's a safe bet that a good deal of them will be somewhat proficient in wandless magic, but if they can't make any hand motions or any sounds it'll be harder." She thought about it for a moment more, then called some shards of desk over to her, placing one on the chest of each man. It was complicated to Transfigure them into scorpions, but not much of a drain on her power. "There," she pronounced, satisfied. "If they wake up, those should occupy their attention for a while."

Harry's face was tense, but he nodded. "She's right, Neville."

There was no time to argue the point, even though she could see that the boys did not entirely agree with her. There was no use for it now anyway. The sound of more footsteps was growing louder from the Hall of Prophecy. They had probably been drawn by Harry's shouted curse.

Harry registered the sounds at the same time as Hermione."Come on!" he said. They left the tied Death Eaters and made for the door that stood open at the other end of the room, leading back into the black hallway.

They had run halfway towards it when Harry saw through the open door two more Death Eaters running across the black room towards them; veering left, he burst instead into a small, dark, cluttered office and slammed the door behind them. Hermione followed quickly, dragging Neville behind her.

"Collo—" began Hermione, but before she could complete the spell the door had burst open and the two Death Eaters had come hurtling inside. She backed away, placing herself between them and Harry.

With a cry of triumph, both yelled, "IMPEDIMENTA!"

Hermione countered with a shield made to protect two people, one in front and one behind. It just barely extended to Neville, and the boy was thrown over a desk and disappeared from view. She hoped that he was alright but would stay down. This was not a fight for fifth years.

"Stay behind me!" she ordered Harry. "I mean it! Get behind something and stay down!"

That was all she had time to say before she was duelling with the two men in earnest. Harry had thrown her a disbelieving look, but had down as she had said.

The two Death Eaters were worthy opponents. They were ganging up on her too- but she had been trained by the best. Mad-Eye Moody himself had fought her and she had won two times out of five. But she was out of practice- she hadn't had a proper duel with Severus in months, not since they had fought that one day and he had pinned her.

Since there were two of them one could cover the other while he shouted, "WE'VE GOT HIM! IN AN OFFICE-"

"Silencio!" cried Hermione, vocalizing her rage, and the man's voice was extinguished. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out. He was thrust aside by his fellow Death Eater, who sent three curses of a nasty orange at Hermione. She ducked, and over her head, she saw the familiar brown of a curse, and then another.

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted Harry, as the fighting Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forwards, face down on to the rug at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.

"Well done, Ha—" Hermione shouted over her shoulder.

But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand; a streak of what looked like purple flame passed right across Hermione's chest. It felt like it was ripping her chest into pieces, like it was forcing her ribs apart and going straight for her heart.

Hermione gave a tiny "Oh!" as if in surprise, and crumpled to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 30. 
> 
> Another cliffhanger, I know! The next chapter things start to change up a bit more... 
> 
> See you on Saturday!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Much of this chapter is drawn from OOTP, but as you can see, it diverges. And oh the consequences...

**_Chapter 31_ **

The Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix was clustered at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place. Most were pretending that they weren't cowering at the wrath of Severus Snape, who was glaring down at all of them with true malice in his eyes. It had been hard enough to avoid strangling Black when he realized the reason he had not come down to answer Potter’s Floo call was that abominable house elf. He and Hermione had anticipated that if the Dark Lord was using Black’s image he would have found a way to prevent contact - but they hadn’t even considered that a house elf could be so disloyal.

He and Black and called the Inner Circle together, for once wanting the same thing: to galvanize the troops, send them into battle … and then. They had gathered, but now they hesitated, all because Dumbledore had sent only one word: WAIT.

"This isn't something we need to debate," he hissed. "The children are at the Ministry, in the hands of Death Eaters, with one Order member to protect all five of them!"

Remus looked haggard, Sirius more so. Arthur and Molly Weasley were sitting together, holding hands so tightly Molly's knuckles were white.

"But- but Albus said to wait," Molly said, her voice shaking. "And- and you said it yourself, Hermione is the best. You- Moody-"

She jumped and squeaked in fright when Severus' fist came down on the table. "She's trying to protect five people from more than a dozen Death Eaters!" he roared. "She's good but she's not superhuman!"

Moody glanced up at Snape, but said nothing. Sirius, who had been pacing the room gave a bark of a laugh. "Think about it, Molly," he said bitterly. "If she has to make a choice, she's not going to choose Ron or Ginny over Harry. We need to go,  _ now. _ "

_ Who would have ever thought that the only person I can get on my side would be Black? _ Severus mused dourly. "He's right," he said shortly. "Her primary goal is to get Harry out of there alive."

"Why is he even there in the first place?" asked Molly Weasley in a high pitched voice. "Why did she even let him go?"

Severus' eyes flashed. "Because I told her that we would be there!" he shouted. "Dumbledore was supposed to be here hours ago-" His watch burned. Cursing, he drew it out on its chain and looked at her message.  _ Danger. DE, come quickly. LM, BL. Hurry. _

"Listen," he snapped. "They are facing both Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange."

Remus rubbed his eyes with his hands. "We got a message from Dumbledore," he said, voice strained. "Dumbledore says to wait for him."

Tonks' hair was changing from a worried blue to angry reddish pinks in quick succession. "Why do we have to wait?" she asked reasonably. "He can meet us there."

"We obey him," Moody said firmly. "He's the boss around here."

Severus, who was already standing, pushed away from the table in disgust, stalking out of the room. He couldn't go himself. That was out of question, although perhaps if he disguised himself...

Hermione's message turned over and over in his head. She was in danger. She wanted him to come, to come quickly. She was only nineteen, and was facing a full company of the best Death Eaters the Dark Lord had in his arsenal. Lucius Malfoy was older than he was, Bellatrix too. They had more years of fighting experience. Bella was mad, but powerful. Lucius was cruel. She was a Muggleborn. They would go for her first, out of all of the children, even if they didn't know she was the best fighter.

It was agony. He had never known anything like this desperate wish that a loved one would return safe and whole.

One dark night he had cast a doubt about the Dark Lord sparing Lily. And then it had evaporated and he had been confident that she would be alive to see the next sunrise. That she would be grateful that her life had been spared.

And then she had died.

Severus found himself staring at the door, a mammoth thing of dark wood. The absurd portrait of Black's hag of a mother was snoring and pretending to be asleep to avoid talking to him.

He could disguise himself. Take the appearance of- of Moody, perhaps. He had Polyjuice Potion in his stores, it would be good, it would work, they could linger and he could save her-

"And where are you going, my dear boy?" There had never been a voice he had hated and yet had been so relieved to hear at the same time.

Severus collected himself quickly. "Back to Hogwarts," he said in a low voice. "This meeting is accomplishing nothing."

The twinkling blue eyes were piercing. "But surely you want to be involved in the planning?"

"What planning?" Severus snapped, at the end of his admittedly short rope. "I already have a plan! We know where they are and what they are doing. Hermione is with them, but she can only keep them safe for so long. We Apparate to the Ministry, get into the Department of Mysteries, and get the children out of there!"

A slight smile came to Dumbledore's face. "You aren't telling me you are beginning to care for Harry? For his safety?"

Severus scowled at him. "I have a vested interest in keeping him alive for as long as possible," he countered. "Let's show the Order your face so they don't have to wait anymore."

"All in due time, my dear boy," the Headmaster said calmly. "Now. When I received your message I was a bit taken aback by your willingness to put them into danger."

Severus glared. "Didn't you say that Harry needed to be tested?" he replied quickly. "We thought that it would be a safe situation with Aurors ready to come to his rescue if needed."

He knew he had made a mistake the moment the Headmaster's eyebrows raised. "We? Severus, are you telling me that this plan was that of a fifth-year girl?"

"Whom you trained to think like a grown woman who spies for a living," said Severus steadily. "We plotted together, and she is performing her part admirably. Now I need to keep my side of the plan by  _ getting fighters there now. _ "

Dumbledore sighed and spread his hands. "I'll be having words with you after this, Severus. You and the girl both."

With that, the Headmaster turned his back to his spy and swept into the kitchen turned war room.

* * *

Pain was all she knew, pain in one concentrated stripe from her right shoulder down to her hip. She wanted to scream, to arch her back and yell her torment, but she was held immobile by the pain. She sunk into her mind palace, running, running from the pain, from the fire that was sinking into her skin and clawing at her organs and bones and tissue.

When she slammed a barrier down between herself and her body, Hermione could finally think straight. She searched, desperately running, for the well of magic that Severus had shown her. She reached for it, going right to the lip of the well so that the stones cut into her belly with a new blossom of pain.

_ Come here! s _ he ordered it.  _ Heal! _

It rose, then fell again. How had she done it the last time? Severus had guided her, Severus, Severus whom she might never see again if she died...

It surged up, and she guided it to her chest, to her ribs and her skin and her heart.

"That's a pulse, Harry, I'm sure it is!" Neville's voice was saying.

"She's alive?" Harry’s voice was cracking. She knew what he had to be imagining, her body crumpled in a graveyard. She pulled her power to her and it surged up again, forcing her body to refuse the pain entrance.

She opened her eyes to see Neville nodding. "I think so- yes!" he shouted.

Hermione gasped, pulling in air that hurt more than it helped. "Spell," she croaked, grabbing Harry's hand and pressing his wand to her belly. "Look!"

She met his eyes and forced the knowledge of the spell from her mind to his. "Do it!" She had only moments before she sunk into pain and sleep again, unless-

Harry, unsure, twirled his wand in a counterclockwise spiral and said the incantation as he flicked his wand tip up sharply. It worked, almost as well as if she had done it herself.

There- now the pain wasn't crippling, she was separated from it enough to sit up and breathe. "Thanks," she gasped. Neville was gaping, mouth moving silently. Finally he stopped and pointed at her face. She reached up to find blood on her fingertips- a nosebleed, and she had bitten her bottom lip.

Those things were easy enough to repair, but the pain was there and hovering at the back of her mind. The damage the spell had done hadn't gone away- she had just blocked the pain so that she could function. If they had time she could heal it, but... well, they didn't have time.

"Help me up," she ordered Harry and Neville, allowing the two strong boys to lift her to her feet. She wavered for a moment as black threatened to overtake her vision, then steadied. "We need to find the others," she croaked. "Harry- remember the spell I taught you last year? The Point Me spell?"

Remembrance came to his face. "Yeah," he said, letting his wand lie flat on his palm. "Here. Point Me!"

They followed the spell through two doors, Hermione leaning heavily on Neville. They emerged into the rotating room just as Ginny, Luna, and Ron stumbled out of one of the doors.

"Ron!" croaked Harry, dashing towards them. "Ginny - are you all -?"

It was immediately obvious that something was wrong, terribly wrong, with Ron."Harry," said Ron, giggling weakly, lurching forwards, seizing the front of Harry's robes and gazing at him with unfocused eyes, "there you are… ha ha ha… you look funny, Harry… you're all messed up…" Ron's face was very white and something dark was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Next moment his knees had given way, but he still clutched the front of Harry's robes, so that Harry was pulled into a kind of bow.

Hermione pulled away from Neville, going to Ron's side and trying to loosen his fingers from their death grip on Harry's robes.

"Ginny?" Harry said fearfully. "What happened?"

But Ginny shook her head and slid down the wall into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle.

"I think her ankle’s broken, I heard something crack," whispered Luna, who was bending over her and who alone seemed to be unhurt. "Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets; it was a very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark -"

"Harry, we saw Uranus up close!" said Ron, still giggling feebly. "Get it, Hermione? We saw Uranus - ha ha ha -"

A bubble of blood grew at the corner of Ron's mouth and burst. A fist clenched in Hermione's chest. "Yes, Ron. That's- that's funny." The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

"- anyway, one of them grabbed Ginny's foot, I used the Reductor Curse and blew up Pluto in his face, but…" Luna gestured hopelessly at Ginny, who was breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed. There was a part of Hermione that felt for the girl's pain but there was a smaller voice that was screaming in pain behind the barriers she had set up that mocked Ginny for being brought down by a  _ broken ankle _ of all things while her innards were being burned-

Her watch heated against her wrist.

She read the message from Severus with a glance, relief and anger both running through her veins.

_ Aurors en route. _

It was bloody time that they show up. They should have been in the Ministry hours ago, before their only hope had stumbled into this godforsaken mess with four children.

She shook it off. "Harry," she said in a low voice. "Harry, we need to move. We're not safe here."

"And what about Ron?" Harry asked Luna fearfully, as Ron continued to giggle, still hanging off the front of Harry's robes despite Hermione's work. He had heard her, even if he didn't acknowledge it.

"I don't know what they hit him with," said Luna sadly, "but he's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get him along at all." She stroked Ginny's hair, comforting the girl.

Hermione knelt carefully, taking Ginny's chin in her hand. The girl's skin was slick with tears. "Listen to me," said Hermione forcefully. "I'm going to heal you, and you will be fine."

Ginny's large brown eyes, still welling with tears, flooded with relief. "Please," she whispered.

The spell wouldn't have drained Hermione normally; however, a good deal of her magic was being used to fuel the barriers between her and the pain that slinked at the edges of her consciousness. Ginny's breathing eased, though, and she stood with Luna's help.

"Harry," said Ron, pulling Harry's ear down to his mouth and still giggling weakly, "you know who this girl is, Harry? She's Loony… Loony Lovegood… ha ha ha..."

Hermione was left to stand by herself- she did so after taking a breath and steeling herself. Her midsection screamed and the black was there and then gone again. "We need to go, Harry," she said again once her vision cleared. "Now."

Their eyes met, hers saying  _ Listen to me, you promised _ and his filled with fury and worry and fear.

"We've got to get out of here," said Harry firmly to the rest of the group. "Luna, can you help Ginny?"

"It's fine. Hermione got it, I can do it myself!" said Ginny impatiently. "Worry about Ron!" Her color was looking slightly better, to all of their relief.

Harry pulled Ron's arm over his shoulder just as, so many months ago, he had pulled Dudley's. He looked around, Hermione echoing the same movement. They had only one chance in twelve of reaching the right exit. Harry looked at her expectantly, but Hermione could only shake her head. She didn't know which one they had come from.

There was nothing for it then. He heaved Ron towards a door; they were within a few feet of it when another door across the hall burst open and three Death Eaters sped in, led by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"There they are!" she shrieked. Stunning Spells shot across the room, blazes of red light ruffling their clothing or hair, dodged at the last minute to hit walls and doors and leave sinister scorch marks.

Harry smashed his way through the door ahead, flung Ron unceremoniously from him and got out of the way to let the other in. They were all over the threshold just in time to slam the door against Bellatrix.

"Colloportus!" shouted Harry, and he heard three bodies slam into the door on the other side. He grinned at Hermione, who grinned back.

"Good," she whispered. "I don't think I'm strong enough to do it right now."

"It doesn't matter!" cried a male Death Eater's voice. "There are other ways in - WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!"

Harry spun around, and Hermione looked behind them slowly. It was true- they were back in the Brain Room and, sure enough, there were doors all around the walls. They could hear footsteps in the hall behind them as more Death Eaters came running to join the first.

"Give me the prophecy for a moment, Harry," Hermione said. "I'm going to try to duplicate it, so they don't know which one of us has it."

He clutched it warily. "But-"

Hermione grabbed his wrist. "You have to hold the real one," she said, keeping her voice low. "But the only reason they haven't killed you so far is because they need it. Right now, nothing is stopping them from killing any of us. I'm just trying to keep everyone safe!"  _ I'm trying to keep them safe and still relatively happy- I didn't kill those damned Death Eaters in front of them because Harry would have thrown a fit- the scorpions will sting, though, the moment they move and that'll take care of that. And then I get cursed because I'm just trying to keep them safe- Harry this is the point where you listen to me! For heaven's sake! _

"Yeah, sure," Harry mumbled. "Take it."

He turned away from her to face the others. "Seal all the doors!" Harry ordered, just as Hermione was about to open her mouth and suggest it. "Luna - Neville - help me! Hermione, if you need to sit and breathe for a moment do that."

Hermione nodded and sat- not to breathe, to plan- while the three Harry had called tore around the room, sealing the doors as they went; Harry crashed into a table and rolled over the top of it in his haste to reach the next door. Echos of "Colloportus!" could be heard as Ginny and Hermione leaned against the already sealed door, each breathing hard. Hermione frowned at the glass ball that was in her hand. It was made of blue glass, but the dullness seemed not to come from the dust but from the smoke within it.

"Ginny, help me with this," Hermione said. Between the two of them, they soon had five fake orbs between the. Hermione sent Harry's to him magically, and he plucked it out of the air with a careful smile at her. She pressed on into Ron's hand and sent the other two to Luna and Neville, who were still busy sealing doors.

There were footsteps running along behind the doors, every now and then another heavy body would launch itself against one, so it creaked and shuddered. Luna and Neville were bewitching the doors along the opposite wall - then, as Harry reached the very top of the room, Hermione heard Luna cry, "Collo—aaaaaaaaargh…"

As if in slow motion she flew through the air as five Death Eaters surged into the room through the door she had not reached in time; Luna hit a desk, slid over its surface and on to the floor on the other side where she lay sprawled. She was still, deathly still. Her dirty blonde hair was in a halo around her head, her wand rolling out of her fingers.

"Get Potter!" shrieked Bellatrix, and she ran at him; he dodged her and sprinted back up the room; he was safe as long as they thought they might hit the prophecy – so were the others, Hermione thought, desperately happy. The globe was slick in her palm, difficult to hold on to.

"Hey!" said Ron, who had staggered to his feet and was now tottering drunkenly towards Harry, giggling. "Hey Harry, there are brains in here, ha ha ha, isn't that weird, Harry?"

"Ron, get out of the way, get down -" The desperation in his voice was heart-wrenching to Hermione.

But Ron had already pointed his wand at the tank. "Honest, Harry, they're brains - look - Accio brain!"

The scene seemed momentarily frozen. Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Neville and each of the Death Eaters turned in spite of themselves to watch the top of the tank as a brain burst from the green liquid like a leaping fish: for a moment it seemed suspended in midair, then it soared towards Ron, spinning as it came, and what looked like ribbons of moving images flew from it, unravelling like rolls of film.

"Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it -" said Ron, watching it disgorge its gaudy innards, "Harry come and touch it; bet it's weird -"

She and Harry cried at the same time.

"No, don't touch it, Ron!"

"RON, NO!"

Hermione did not know what would happen if Ron touched the tentacles of thought now flying behind the brain, but she was sure it would not be anything good. Harry darted forwards but Ron had already caught the brain in his outstretched hands. The moment they made contact with his skin, the tentacles began wrapping themselves around Ron's arms like ropes.

"Harry, look what's happen— No - no - I don't like it - no, stop - stop -" But the thin ribbons were spinning around Ron's chest now; he tugged and tore at them as the brain was pulled tight against him like an octopus's body.

"Diffindo!" yelled Harry, trying to sever the feelers wrapping themselves tightly around Ron before his eyes, but they would not break. Ron fell over, still thrashing against his bonds.

_ What do I do what do I do I've never read about anything like this- _

While Hermione was paralyzed in thought, Ginny reacted violently.

"Harry, it'll suffocate him!" screamed Ginny, running at Ron. A jet of red light flew from one of the Death Eater's wands and hit her squarely in the face. She keeled over sideways and lay there unconscious.

It provoked both Hermione and Neville into action.

"STUBEFY!" shouted Neville, wheeling around and waving the fallen Death Eater's wand at the oncoming Death Eaters, "STUBEFY, STUBEFY!" His own wand has been broken when he had flown into the desks, landing badly. He was using the one Hermione had taken from the fallen Death Eater, and it was fighting him. Hermione fired spells silently, using ones that had streams of red light- but that weren't Stunning spells. Bone-Breakers, Entail-Expellers, Brain-Boilers. She wasn't going to play nice. One Death Eater fell to her spells, and was left twitching on the floor.

One of the Death Eaters shot their own Stunning Spell at Neville, missing him by inches. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were now the only ones left fighting the five Death Eaters, two of whom sent off streams of silver light like arrows which missed but left craters in the wall behind them. Harry ran for it as Bellatrix Lestrange raced right at him: holding the prophecy high above his head, he sprinted back up the room; all Hermione could think of doing was that he was trying to draw the Death Eaters away from the others.

It seemed to have worked; they streaked after him, knocking chairs and tables flying but not daring to bewitch him in case they hurt the prophecy. Hermione cursed loudly and followed, yelling at Neville to stay with the others who had fallen. Harry dashed through the only door still open, the one through which the Death Eaters themselves had come.

"Help Ron!" Hermione shouted behind her shoulder, running after the Death Eaters. "Stay here, Neville!" With a spurt of power, she Disillusioned herself, feeling the cold of the spell trickling down her head and spine.

She came to the top of a flight of steps to see Harry flat on his back in the sunken pit where the stone archway stood on its dais. The whole room was ringing with the Death Eaters and their laughter. The five who had been in the Brain Room were descending toward him, while as many more emerged through other doorways and began leaping from bench to bench towards him. Harry got to his feet though his legs were trembling so badly they barely supported him.

With a sigh of relief, Hermione saw that the prophecy was still miraculously unbroken in his left hand, his wand clutched tightly in his right. He backed away, looking around, trying to keep all the Death Eaters within his sight. The back of his legs hit something solid: he had reached the dais where the archway stood. He climbed backwards onto it. The Death Eaters all halted, gazing at him. Some were panting as hard as he was. One was bleeding badly, others were bruised or missing their masks.

"Potter, your race is run," drawled Lucius Malfoy, pulling off his mask. "Now hand me the prophecy."

Hermione could see it in his face, the realization that he was surrounded and that no help was there. It was a look of defeat, of desperation. "I'll let you have it if you let the others go," he said, pleaded, begged.

"You're in no position to bargain, Potter," Malfoy said, amusement lighting his pale face. "Here, all alone. Abandoned. Foolish. You brought your friends into this, you know." His voice was light and faintly chiding, as if he was remarking upon Harry's choice of sweets at a shop instead of life and death in a battle. She slid around him and went to stand with Harry.

Hermione removed the Disillusionment, ignoring the noises of shock that went up around her. "We brought ourselves," she said quietly. She knew how foolish this was- she had drained her magical reserves, she was running off of nothing now but her Occlumency shields and the force of her will.

Out of habit, her hand raised to the pearl that Severus had given her, resting her fingertips over it in a gesture she had made a thousand times before.

Warmth. Brushing her fingers, glorious golden warmth that her body welcomed and sucked in like a thirsting man takes in water.

_ Pearls. Good for holding or storing magic. Less noticeable than opals, better conductors of magic for women than men. Strengthens a woman's magic at the full moon. Known for ideals of feminine beauty, traditionally a gift for a young woman. Not as rare as diamonds, not as powerful as rubies. Gentle magics, storing magics. Signs of affection. _

It wasn't the full moon yet, but it wasn't far from it. And it had probably been drawing little bits of magic from her in moments when she wouldn't need it, saving and hoarding the scraps of gold for when she would.

It would have been wrong to say that her strength was back in an instant, or that her magical reserves were full again. Rather, she was bolstered by the gentle magic in the pearl. There was enough there, enough to make a shield and hold it, enough for one or two spells of middling power. One weak spell of great power. It was there. Not all was lost.

Lucius Malfoy threw his head back and laughed. "I remember you, little girl," he said, meeting her eyes. "This time I'm not going to bother with talking before I kill you."

His wand was moving in a fluid arc that came to a shuddering halt when she held the glass ball out. "Kill me and this drops," she warned, voice deadly.

"Potter has the real prophecy," Malfoy said, but still he didn't move.

Hermione gave him an icy smile. "Potter has a pathological need to protect other people at the expense of his own safety," she countered. "What if he gave the real one to me and took a fake one because he would prefer that I be protected?"

Beside her, Harry shifted. "I do have a saving people thing," he said, glaring out at the room. "She's the one who reminded me of it."

"But Dumbledore's little bodyguard wouldn't let him do that," Bellatrix said, voice high and full of malice. "She's the one who killed a brother of ours in the graveyard last year, was she not? The one Severus tells us about, the one who they've trained."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the mention of Severus. Her hand went from the pearl he had given her to her knives. She slid one out, using Harry to hide her motion and cradling the fake prophecy in her elbow precariously. "I did it once and I'll do it again," Hermione spat.

She was lowering into a crouch when two meaty arms encircled her from behind, lifting her off her feet. They caught her by surprise, but not for long. Hermione kicked at the man's knees, and pulled her head back and rammed it into the man's nose. Her head was cushioned by her bushy hair, but she heard a dull crack in the man's face.

The Death Eater grunted, his arms loosening. She pulled the arm with her knife free and in one movement slid it against the side of the man's neck in the gap between his mask and his robes.

He made a gurgling sound, and dropped. Harry looked between her and corpse with horror on his face.

Hermione glared at the others behind her. "Try if you dare," she hissed. She was furious- the fake prophecy had fallen and shattered on the ground. It was clear that Harry was the protected one now- at least, he had that.

She raised a hand and swiped at the blood that was covering one side of her face and neck. "We're not giving you the prophecy," she said quietly.

Bellatrix laughed again, coming down to stand with Lucius. "Little girl, you can't stop us." Her wand was not even a blur as it moved down. Too quickly for Hermione to counter, to useless. "Crucio."

Suddenly she was back in the graveyard except this was real, this was worse. This was an Unforgivable wielded by an expert with almost fourteen years worth of awful memories and hate and another twelve before that of honing her craft.

Hermione lost her control of the shields that were blocking her from the pain. It came in a swarm of black that became red tinged when the Cruciatus Curse would not let her blackout. It didn't come it waves anymore, it was just present and helping the curse tear her bones from her muscles and her organs from their places and the blood from her veins and the air from her lungs.

It wasn't ending, it went on and on and on and she  _ screamed _ yes she pleaded and yelled and just tried to let some of the pain leave through her open mouth.

And eternity passed before the curse lifted, an eternity before she could feel Harry's kind hands at her face and holding her head. Blood trickled from her mouth, from her nose, from her ears. The pain from Dolohov's curse seemed trivial now, even as it was no longer held back behind mental shields and spells.

Hermione gasped for air, arching her back, then sat up and coughed with Harry's help. He was breathing fast and the haunted look in his green eyes was enough to make her want to cry again.

"Give it to me or she gets it again," Bellatrix said, something like glee trying to hide behind boredom in her voice. "Now." Her eyes glittered dangerously as her hand reached out, beckoning Harry forward.

And- and he was going!

"No- Harry-" she croaked. "No!" Her wrist blazed with heat- a glance showed three words.  _ Aurors in Ministry. _

"Sorry," he muttered. "Her-"

Hermione pointed her wand at Bellatrix, the knowledge of what she was about to do, terrible in her heart. " _ Reducto. _ "

There was just enough power behind it to blast a hole the size of a fist through Bellatrix Lestrange's chest.

Bellatrix realized she was dying at the same time the Death Eaters around her did; Hermione shoved Harry down and away from herself, yelling at him to shield himself, as dozens of wands leveled themselves at her.

At least two Stunners met their target of Hermione's chest, but it was Bellatrix's screech and downward slash of her wand that struck the hardest.

Hermione fell to the ground, unknowing, as the doors to the room burst open and Order members streamed in.

* * *

Severus kept the worry at bay by going through his Potions cabinet meticulously, sorting out what they might need. Burns were always a possibility. Knowing Bella, a Cruciatus potion might be wise. Some Pepper-Up. Calming Draughts. Dreamless Sleep.

He shrank the box and ordered it to trail behind him as he made the long trek from the dungeons to the Hospital Wing.

Poppy Pomfrey was already bustling around, clearing six beds in the far corner of the wing. When she heard Severus enter, she made a soft squeak.

"Oh, Severus," she sighed. "Albus told me that they'd be bringing in children. Order members and children."

He nodded stiffly. "I brought potions," he said, needlessly gesturing at the box that promptly re-sized itself. "I didn't know what you needed, so I brought plenty."

Poppy harumphed. "You'd know if you'd been in anytime lately," she scolded. "Don't be telling me that this time around old Snake-face isn't just as wand happy. You can come here anytime and I'll do what I can to heal you, Severus. You don't need to suffer through it all on your own."

He looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "I'm not," he said gruffly. "I- I have help. Someone who looks out for me, someone to heal me." He met Poppy's kind gaze. "She also makes sure I eat and makes me drink far too much tea." Unpacking the potions onto a small table gave him a chance to turn away and hide his small smile at the thought of Hermione.

"Good, then," the matron said happily, going back to her preparations. "I won't ask who helps you, but I do want to know who I'm preparing for, and who's parent's I'll have to Floo."

It struck him then, how few of them had parents left to Floo. "You'll have to make a call to Xenophilius Lovegood and Augusta Longbottom. The Weasleys already know, and both Mr. Potter and Miss Granger have no family worth contacting."

In the midst of folding down a sheet, Poppy grimaced. "Poor dears. At least it makes my workload easier- although Augusta Longbottom is worth three Floo calls in and of herself."

"Speaking of," Severus said, nodding his head at the large fireplace at one end of the wing. "They are coming." The fire had been acquiring a greenish tinge that burst into full emerald.

Out stumbled Sirius Black, the lifeless body of a girl draped over his arms.

Time slowed for Severus until the sound his heartbeat in his ears counted an eternity rather than a breath. It took a long moment to place the shade of brown bushy hair, not fiery red or dirty blonde. Then the elegant neck and the pert nose and the stubborn chin.

"Hermione," he breathed. "What happened?"

Sirius was already depositing her in a bed. "She had the worst of it," he called over his shoulder. "She was the last one with Harry. The others will be coming soon- Ron's got something serious and Harry said something about a brain. Ginny and the Lovegood girl both are out, but I don't think it's anything too bad."

He was already turning back for the Floo when he was jerked back by Severus' iron grip on his arm. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the fighting," said Sirius. It was clear at that moment that Sirius was feeling more alive than he had in months; there was the whisper of a grin on his face and the animation of his features was sacrilegious to Severus when his beloved was lying on a bed with a Medi-witch leaning over her. "Harry wouldn't rest until she was safe."

Sirius pulled out of Severus' grasp and was back in the fire in a moment. "See you in a bit, Poppy!" he called. "The Ministry of Magic!"

The insufferable prankster was gone, but Hermione remained. He went to her side, unable to stop himself from reaching out to touch her skin. She was pale, too pale, and too still. He could have mistaken her for dead if it had not been for the barely noticeable rise and fall of her chest. Poppy's eyes were darting back and forth, reading the lights over the woman's body that told her what, exactly, was wrong with her.

"What did they do?" she whispered. "I- I don't recognize this, Severus. Or this. This here says Cruciatus, and at least two Stunners. Maybe three."

Severus frowned and ran his wand slowly from her feet to her head. When it reached her abdomen it buzzed, the vibrating intensifying when it reached her breastbone. "Something here," he murmured.

The next half hour was lost in a blur of diagnostic spells and healings and pure concentration. Through it all, she lay unmoving, even as the noise level rose to unbearable levels with the addition of Molly Weasley and her two children, an outraged Augusta, a shouting Xenophilius. Poppy left Severus with Hermione, pulling the curtain around her bedside as she worked on the other patients.

The curse that he could identify was a speciality of Dolohov- a nasty thing, purple, that was designed to separate. Originally used by medical surgeons to part the breastbone and split the ribs, with a simple adaptation it could be used for murder, for torture. Just a flick of the wand a few degrees to the left and the surgeon was left with a disaster. For obvious reasons, the respectable uses of the spell went out of style as more reliable measures were used.

What he didn't recognize was Bellatrix's work. He could tell it was the woman's- he had been cursed by her often enough to know- but he didn't know what she had done.

Dolohov's he could fix. With a quiet apology, he severed her shirt down the middle, revealing a simple blue bra and smooth skin that was marred by horrible busing and a long section of scar tissue that had already been partially healed. He could fix that, whatever it was. That was a singing spell, one of the few ancient healing spells that hadn't been lost. His mother had taught it to him, showing him how to move his wand back and forth over the area in a smooth pattern when chanting the words to the spell to the right rhythm.

He remembered her as he worked. His mother. Eileen Snape, nee Prince. She had had long black hair like his, and it had swung forward to hide a small smile as she had shown him the spell.

"An inheritance," she had decried dryly. "Passed down from pureblood Prince to pureblood Prince to... the half-blood Prince, I suppose. It's yours by right, anyway. Half right."

She wouldn't have approved of its use on Hermione. Not that she had anything against Muggleborns or Muggles- she'd married one for god's sake- but she wouldn't have liked Hermione. Wouldn't have liked her know-it-all ways or her surety that she was always right or her occasional flair for the dramatic or foolhardy.

It didn't matter. Severus approved of her and that was all that mattered. He more than approved of her. It was becoming quite obvious, the worse her color turned, that the woman lying still in the hospital bed was the most important thing in his life.

Xenophilius had quieted by the time he finished with the chanting spell. Augusta was sleeping in a chair near Neville's bed, her vulture hat on another chair. Molly's hand was still stroking her daughter's hair even as she watched Madam Pomfrey's shadow move through the curtain around Ron's bed.

Severus gazed down at her. Sneaking a look up, he brought his hand up and caressed her cheek. The skin was warm, too warm, under his hand. Warm and dry. Fever. He had to get Poppy.

When he stepped from the protective cocoon of the curtain around Hermione's bed, Molly gave a little gasp and Remus turned suddenly. There were dried tear tracks on the werewolf's face, and his hands were shaking.

Severus assessed this in a moment, then plucked one of the vials from the potions he had set on a small table earlier. "Drink this," he ordered Remus. "Calming Draught. What happened?"

There was a dangerous look in Remus' face when he answered, as if he was daring Severus to comment. "Sirius is dead," Remus said. "You-Know-Who killed him."

There was nothing to say; he was not sorry that the bastard who had tortured him as a child was dead, but nor was he gladdened by the pain before him, or the pain he knew Hermione would feel later. All he could do was nod. "Drink that," he said again. "It will ease the pain some."

The muscles of the werewolf's neck tightened, but at last he nodded tersely and uncorked the vial. "You-Know-Who was furious," he said quietly. "Because she's dead."

"Who?" Severus asked harshly, already halfway to Ron's curtain where Madam Pomfrey worked. "Who else died?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," answered Tonks as she walked in, wavering before she sat on a bed. "Hermione killed her and auntie dearest tried just as hard to kill Hermione."

Severus froze. "Damn," he whispered. "Fuck."  _ Hermione killed her? How- _ he had no idea how this would play out. But it didn't matter- none of it would matter if Hermione died. If she was permanently disabled from whatever Bellatrix had hit her with.

He pulled the curtain around Weasley's bed, catching Poppy's attention instantly. "She was cursed by Bellatrix Lestrange," he said shortly. "I think it's a poison of some sort. I need your help."

The matron nodded. "I'm nearly done here," she said. "Give me ten minutes. Try to see what the poison is attacking while I finish with this one."

He headed back to his task with a renewed fear prickling at the base of his spine. He tried spell after spell, soon joined by Madam Pomfrey.

As they worked, the matron's mouth pressed in a harder and harder line. Hermione's breathing grew ragged. Severus shed his outer robe. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, and he bound his hair at the nape of his neck to keep it out of his face.

Bezoars didn't work. Neither did any other of the cures he had brewed. When the convulsions started, nothing could calm them. They ran themselves out in the darkest hour of the early morning.

The sun was beginning to lighten the sky when the pair finally stopped. Everyone else in the Hospital Wing was sleeping- the only sounds were Hermione's rasping breaths and the snores of Xenophilius.

"She's not getting better," Madam Pomfrey said, sitting down in the visitor's chair next to Hermione's bed. "I don't know what to do, Severus. The poison is in her blood, in her lungs, in her muscles... probably in her bones too, by now." Her voice was the practised hushed of one who works with the sick.

There had been a thin shield keeping his true emotions from his face and his hands and his thoughts as he worked, as he had tried spell after potion after spell on the still woman before him.  _ She's not getting better _ ... it snapped.

"No," he said, voice rusty. "No. She has to."

"There is nothing we can do, Severus," Poppy said, tears coming to her eyes. "She's a good one. She doesn't deserve this. But unless you have a miracle in your pocket then there is nothing-"

He folded himself into the other chair, putting his hands over his face, pressing his palms into his eye sockets.  _ What do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do I don't have any miracles bezoars save people from poisoning what else what else unicorn blood can bring anyone from the brink of death but they are doomed to live a cursed life what else what else magical creatures what can they do- _

"Phoenix tears," he breathed. "Would that work?" He stood and grabbed Poppy by the shoulders. "Would phoenix tears work?"

The hope that sprang to the woman's face was a glorious thing to see. "Yes," she said, pushing herself to her feet. "They could. If you could find them, if-"

"Fawkes," Severus said. "He can give tears, he could try-" Even as he said it, she was shaking her head, the hope draining from her face.

"I thought you had a vial someplace," she said, shaking her head. "Fawkes- he doesn't cry for people. Not even the Headmaster. During the first war, Albus would beg that bird and he would just sing to ease those people to their deaths."

Surety was gripping him. "He cried for Potter," he said, voice full of grim determination. "Almost exactly three years ago, he cried for Potter."

He would go to the Headmaster's office. That had to be where they were.

The tears of a phoenix would be the only thing that could save Hermione Granger's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 31. 
> 
> Next chapter will be up Wednesday as per usual! I want to say a very sincere thank you to everyone who has been commenting - life is hard right now and all the little comments on this story make me very happy. 
> 
> Part Two only has two chapters left in it! Once we get to Part Three, things start to heat up a bit... Very fun chapters. Can't wait! I'm currently putting the finishing touches on Chapter 62, so we've got a ways to go.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! Thank you to my beta, Sorasradust, as per usual. 
> 
> Loved all the lovely comments! Thank you so much everyone.

**_Chapter 32_ **

Severus bounded up the rotating staircase, taking three, four steps at a time. There was only one goal in mind: the need to reach Harry Potter and the phoenix who could save her.

Before long he was banging at the wooden door, ignoring the portraits that were gaping him and his rudeness. "Open this right now, Albus!" Severus shouted. "She's dying and it's all your fault!"

The door swung inward, and Severus swooped into the room. He was moving as if he had been wearing robes, which would have billowed out around him, but he was still plainly dressed in his white button-down and black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms and his hair was still bound at his nape.

Dumbledore's office was in shambles. Potter looked weary, shell-shocked; the boy had cuts and bruises on his hands that had not come from the fighting. Here he was in one piece, with enough strength to destroy the room and valuable magical equipment while Hermione lay unmoving (or writhing if the convulsions had started again) in a hospital bed.

Dumbledore had the traces of a tear on his cheek, but any sadness he may or may not have felt was gone as he stood and faced Severus. "We were having an important conversation," the Headmaster said sternly, "that did not concern you, Severus. Harry had to-"

"I don't give a rat's arse about what Potter had to learn," Severus said dangerously. "Hermione is dying." He jerked his head at Harry. "We have a witness, Albus, so you can't go on about how she deserves it for leading them into danger or some other nonsense."

There was real fury in the old man's eyes now. "Then why are you here?"

Severus pointed at Harry. "Because he can save her," he snapped. "Potter. He dragged her into this mess and he may be the only person who can save her."

Harry looked back and forth between the Headmaster and the Potions Master. "The curse- Dolohov cursed her-"

"Yes, but that was simple," Severus said, speaking quickly. "Bellatrix cursed her also. It's a poison of some kind that hasn't responded to anything thus far. But- but there is one more thing that we haven't tried, and it's the tears of a phoenix-"

"Fawkes has never cried for me before," said the Headmaster gravely. "I'm afraid there is nothing we can do, Severus, except make-"

"You bleating idiot, I didn't come here for you!" Severus roared. "I said I came for Potter, because Fawkes has cried for him- he still has a pure soul; if he asks perhaps the bird will!"

Harry stood, looking at Snape for a long moment before turning to face Fawkes. "Will you? Will you save Hermione?"

Severus directed his thoughts toward the bird, hoping that it could hear him- it was said that phoenixes could sometimes hear thoughts.  _ I know she's killed and I know that she's done bad things but she's a good person, the kindest, most loving person I've ever known. She's capable of loving me- she's a good person you have to save her. _

There was silence in the room, as Fawkes gazed at the Boy-Who-Lived while the Boy-Who-Lived stared back. Finally, from his perch, the infant bird squawked. It was an ugly, featherless thing. Raising its stubby wings, it flapped them twice with another jarring cry.

Dumbledore looked at his phoenix oddly. "He says that he will," said the old man slowly. "I will come with you. Harry, if you would carry Fawkes we would be much obliged."

With quivering hands Harry picked the small bird up, using a gentleness that belied the shattered instruments and the blood on his palms. The bird chirruped happily.

They used the Floo, unwilling to be seen by students off to the Great Hall for an early breakfast. Severus went first, followed by Harry and then the Headmaster.

Madam Pomfrey was tending to Luna, who had just awoken. She nodded at Severus, eyes brightening at the lump of bird in Harry's palms. Severus led the way to Hermione's bed, pulling back the curtain only enough for them to enter.

In the brief minutes he had been gone, the sun had risen farther. A small window cast light on her body, sunken and still deteriorating. The poison was quick- the only sign she was alive was the whistling scrape of her breathing and the trembling of her hands.

"It's attacking her muscle function," Severus said in a low voice. "Tremors. There were tremors. Next, if I'm not mistaken, she will either sink into a coma or wake for an hour or so of hallucinations. Either way, her heart will give out and she will die."

Fawkes made a few singing sounds, undeveloped, but strong. Harry stroked his head with one finger, bringing him closer to Hermione. "What do I need to do?"

Severus went to the head of Hermione's bed, placing his long hands so that he could open her mouth and massage her throat at the same time. "Bring him closer," he ordered.

Harry did as he was told, until the bird was hovering over Hermione. Fawkes shuffled a few times, then settled and began to sing.

The notes were high and unsure, but soothing. Harry's eyes drifted shut, and he took in a shuddering breath. Severus felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The Headmaster sighed and stroked his beard. There was an indrawn breath from outside the curtain and the sound of someone weeping quietly.

Severus watched Fawkes with hope, with a beautiful hope blossoming from the point just inside his ribs, where his Hermione-feelings normally started. He watched the phoenix as it ducked its head, as it sang and sang and sang as a tear built in its eye.

Finally- finally one dropped into Hermione's open mouth. Then another, round and glistening and a milky blue rather than clear. He rubbed her throat, making her swallow.

The effect was immediate, even as the third tear fell. Her breathing came easier, the magic coursing through her as if the song was speeding it along. A fourth tear fell, and her color improved.

That was the last one- Fawkes straightened and sang a few softer notes, drawing the song to a close.

He wanted to cry.

Severus felt his own tears building inside of him, now that the balm of the phoenix song was gone and the healing was only half done. Hours of listening wouldn't have been enough. He wanted to bury his face in Hermione's hair and cry.

"Thank you," he croaked, looking up so he could meet the bird's uncanny gaze.

It could understand him- it nodded its head once and tucked its head under its wing.

Severus smoothed his hand over Hermione's forehead. "Her temperature has gone down," he said, relief making him unsteady on his feet. "Poppy!"

The matron rushed over. "It worked?"

"I think so," he said, unable to keep a grin from his face. "It worked!"

His joy was growing and building at the same rate color was returning to Hermione's face until-

His left arm burned.

Reality came crashing down. "He's calling me," he told Dumbledore, meeting the man's eye. "Don't-" He stopped. He had wanted to say  _ Don't leave her side for a moment _ , but he couldn't do that. "No. Make sure she's okay."

Dumbledore nodded wearily. "Of course, Severus. Go to him."

* * *

Darkness surrounded her, darkness that was calming and serene and gentle. She remembered music and warm hands and water that ended the pain, and the indisputable presence of Severus. It left and she stayed and sunk into the darkness again.

The pain was gone. That made her happy. That Severus came back and was near her again made her happier. Then he went away again and she listened to the voices of Ron and Ginny and Luna before falling asleep once more.

It was a struggle to try to wake up fully the next time she sensed him, but Hermione pulled herself from the comfort of darkness to reach him.

"Severus," she tried saying, but all that came out was a sigh.

It was dark all around, but a darker shape moved closer. "Hush," he murmured. A hand, warm and large and gentle, stroked her hair before cupping her cheek. "Rest."

She smiled up at him and turned her face to his palm, kissing the ball of his thumb. She could hear his quiet chuckle.

"Sleep, Hermione. You still need to heal."

* * *

After he left her bedside- had she woken or had she been dreaming? - Severus returned to his set of rooms. Three days. Three days she had been sleeping, alone in the farthest bed from the door. She was tucked into the wall, the curtain drawn around her. One window shone light down into the makeshift room.

The first day, after the fiasco at the Ministry, the Hospital Wing had been loud with the discharges as parents and all the children, save the Weasley boy, left. Hermione stayed in her corner bed and Severus only briefly stopped by to give Madam Pomfrey the ten potions Hermione would need to consume, along with the four for Weasley.

That night he had come to visit briefly, after Madam Pomfrey had finished healing him. He had returned from the Dark Lord's side for the second night in a row and had not come away unscathed this time. His bed in the dungeon beckoned, but he fell into the bed across from Hermione's and slept fitfully.

He awoke before dawn and reluctantly left the Hospital Wing after checking her over.

After dusk fell he checked her again, and then once more during the day. He had been unable to come immediately after sunset, but now- just now in the hour before the darkest of the morning- she had roused somewhat.

Severus wasn't quite sure he liked the leaping in his belly and chest, like small fish were flinging themselves out of the water and flopping around in the air. He was a grown man and a master Occlumens, he should be able to control himself more than he was showing!

But that wasn't the case and he bloody well knew why.

Hermione had almost died. She had almost perished in that godforsaken isolated part of the goddamned Ministry of Magic and if she had died he didn't know what he would have done.

She had almost died in the Hospital Wing and there was no way that she would not have died in his arms because he would have held her in her last moments. He didn't care what Madam Pomfrey thought (although she probably had far too many ideas now) or Albus or Potter's little Gryffindor gang.

Hermione was  _ his _ and she had almost died and a part of him would have died with her.

That scared him. More than the look in the Dark Lord's terrible face when he punished his Death Eaters to the brink of insanity for Bella's death. The thought of losing Hermione was worse than the wrath of the most powerful megalomaniac the world had seen in one hundred years.

Her voice came back to him, serious and solemn:  _ "I don't know if I can content myself with 'maybe someday after the war' anymore, Severus. _ "

He didn't know if he could content himself with maybe someday after the war either.

* * *

Although sound in his quiet rooms was still foreign, the patter of quiet footsteps that ended behind his armchair did not surprise Severus. The hand that reached down and stroked his cheek, turning his face toward her, did.

"The last day here and only now does Madam Pomfrey discharge me," Hermione said, an obvious attempt at lightness in her voice. "I missed the feast."

His gladness to see her was impossible to conceal. He grinned wryly, taking the hand that was on his face and holding it in his own as he stood. "It was rubbish. You missed nothing."

Hermione moved closer to him, squeezing his hand softly. "I missed you," she said quietly, taking another step. Her head was tilted up to meet his eyes. Her skin was still too pale, but her breathing was fine. Her eyes were dark in her face, her mouth held somewhere between trembling and determined.  _ Please, _ her eyes asked.  _ Please. _

He drew her to him with his free arm, drawing it around her shoulders so he could hold her properly. "And I you."

They kept the embrace, Severus holding her as gently as he could so that it would not aggravate her injuries. There was so much that felt right about it all, Hermione pressed lightly into his body, her curves molding to his firmness, the cloud of bushy hair under his hand, the warmth they shared. Tenderness and mutual adoration, tenuous and sacred.

There was something about almost losing her, a fierce desire to reaffirm she was alive himself, that made him bend to kiss her gently, tenderly, almost chastely. She clung to him, moving her mouth against his with increasing urgency. Her mouth was warm and sweet, her small tongue teasing him by darting in and out of his mouth and beckoning him to claim her as his own.

When they finally parted it was because Hermione was breathing hard and he was concerned for her wound. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice only barely above a whisper. It seemed fitting that the moment should be preserved in silence for as long as possible to escape the cold chaos of noise and rationality.

Hermione smiled up at him, happiness radiating out of her face. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah. I am. Severus, I-"

He placed a finger over her lips. "Don't say anything," he said, then cupped her face in his hands. "Please don't." He sat down, pulling her gently to him so that she was seated in his lap. The book that he had been reading was set aside; she was his focus now.

Hermione was sitting across him; she turned and straddled him so that she could see his face. Severus swallowed roughly, clenching his hands to control himself. She had no idea how she looked like this, her face backlit by the fire behind her, the light making her outline hazy, especially around her hair when it changed from dark to brilliant gold at the edges like a halo.

"I already know it all and you already know how I feel," he murmured, running his hands up her arms. "You saw it in my mind."

There was no other way to describe her smile than to call it a beam; she beamed at him and he was absolved. Her hand came to his cheek and caressed it gently. The rasp of his stubble on her hand was loud in the quiet room, the silence otherwise broken only by the crackling and hissing of the fireplace and the sound of her breathing. She leaned in, eyes wide open, and kissed him.

Her mouth was warm and wet and far too teasing with her tongue to be the kiss of a simple schoolgirl. Apparently she was having the same thoughts that he had, evident when she ground against him in a most provocative way. The heaviness between his thighs ached for her.

He groaned into her mouth, cupping the back of her head and a handful of curls to press her closer to him. Her eyes slipped shut, and she made a quiet noise in the back of her own throat as she responded in kind. Severus' other hand was on her waist, holding her to him. As she moved closer her shirt slid up and his hand was suddenly in contact with warm skin, skin that was far too hot and far too smooth.

Lost in the feeling of her lips and tongue and her smooth skin under his hand he stroked her back under her shirt and let his hand run the length of her back, across the nudges of her spine. A needy moan was her response, a breathless sound that made him harden even more. His fingers reached the fabric of her bra-  _ lace, _ suggested the roughness under his fingers.

He slid his hand down her back again, this time skimming the line of her waist. It was so tiny- she was so tiny- and his hands were so large that he could feel the scar tissue from her back injury as his hand dipped into the curve of her waist. If he had merely looked he would have seen nothing, but Glamours didn't hide texture.

She tensed when he stroked the scar, worrying him instantly. Had he caused her pain? He lessened their kiss, pulling back and taking his hands from her bare skin with a hot sliver of guilt and shame, as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

And yet, his hands still craved the softness, the warmth, the smoothness that was female and Hermione. His hand went to her cheek, cupping it and savoring the warmth as he satisfied his need to look into her eyes, to read her emotions on her face.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked seriously.

Hermione shook her head, the lovely color that was in her face deepening by a shade. "No, not really. It wasn't that." Her hand by his neck stroked the juncture of neck and shoulder.

His other hand reached up to take hers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "Then...?"

"It's a scar," she mumbled. "Not very sexy, I suppose." Hermione was refusing to look at him, even as she took comfort in the hand cradling her face.

"Then I hope you know what you're getting yourself into," Severus murmured in her ear, leaning close to her so that his breath would brush the shell of her ear. "Because I am a mess of scars."

Hermione's eyes were sad. "I know why you have your scars and it makes me want to cry," she told him a low, serious voice. "But they don't make me desire you any less."

He stroked her cheek. "Then what makes you think I feel any different, you silly girl?"

She was kissing him hard, her arms flung around his neck. When they parted again, she was breathing heavily. There were a million words in her eyes, all ways to say  _ thank you you understand me I understand you I love you you get me you would never mock me I love you you understand thank you so much for understanding I love you. _

"We might want to do something other than kiss," Severus said quietly after a moment. "We need to discuss what all of- what all of what happened means. And we are going to be answering to Dumbledore tomorrow afternoon, and to the Order tomorrow evening."

She sighed and turned herself so that she was sitting with her legs draped across him and the arm of the chair. With Hermione no longer facing him, instead, tucked securely into his chest, Severus was able to let a small smile brush his face. He adored her warmth; he loved that she was so close to him and warm and just  _ glorious _ in his arms.

"Yeah, I suppose so," she said, sighing again. "I'm assuming the Dark Lord was furious."

Severus tensed unconsciously. "You killed his most dedicated follower, Hermione," he said, his voice strained. "You took Bellatrix Lestrange away from him and now the price on your head is nearly as high as the one on Potter's- and they aren't allowed to kill Potter but they've been  _ heavily  _ encouraged to kill you."

He could feel her draw in a shuddering breath against him. "She's dead?" It was a whisper, not deliberately deadened, but rather just too terrible to say aloud.

"Of course she's dead," Severus snapped. "You made half her chest land three meters away." He regretted his sharp words when she shivered again.

"Bollocks," swore Hermione. "So. She died. Who else?"

"Black," Severus answered after a moment to consider. "Another Death Eater- Thomas from a slit throat. Two more found mysteriously dead from scorpion stings. And one more found with his brain boiled in his skull. That was it. Nymphadora Tonks came close, but she's in St. Mungo's now."

They were quiet for a long time, each with their own thoughts. Severus, unknowingly, wound a strand of Hermione's hair around his finger, fiddling with it and rubbing it between his fingers. She hardly noticed, more focused on what she had done.

"We screwed up, Severus," she said finally. It was easier to stare into the fire than it was to look up at his face. The glowing red of the embers and the sharp crackle as the one remaining log of wood split made her think of church as a child, of sitting on a hard wooden pew and listening to the old man at the front describe fire and damnation. "We sent children into danger without a solid back up plan. We were overconfident and not careful enough."

There were a thousand things that had gone wrong. First her own dithering reluctance to raise her wand to her friends- she had been able to do it to Krum, but not to Harry. She should have Stunned Ginny and Luna and not taken the rest of them. She should have left them to guard the upper levels of the Ministry and wait for the Aurors, she should have been more aggressive when fighting the Death Eaters, she shouldn't have gotten cursed- let alone cursed twice. Severus should have gotten the Aurors there as promised, the Order should have listened to him, they should have all been more prepared. Hermione shouldn't have even entered the Ministry without confirmation from Severus that the Aurors were already there.

With anyone else he would have snapped, asked her if she thought he didn't already know that. With Hermione, he sighed and bent his head into her hair. "I know," he said quietly. "Believe me, I know. But some good came out of it." He didn't wait for her to ask. "Potter got a badly needed reality check. The Order had its first real fight in almost fifteen years. And Bellatrix Lestrange, perhaps the most dangerous Death Eater who was freed from Azkaban, is dead. That's one person we no longer need to worry about. And Potter now has an Inner Circle of sorts, a battle-tested group of reliable allies."

"And apparently you've gotten over at least a small part of your 'we need distance' hang up," Hermione said, in a voice that was significantly happier than the one she had spoken in earlier. "Don't tell me it's only temporary."

In his mind, he froze, but his corporeal body kept breathing and holding Hermione. "You almost died," he said carefully. "You have no idea how close I was to losing you, Hermione."

How could he put it into words, this feeling that if he ever let her go she would fall from his arms and shatter into a million pieces? That he would lose her if she wasn't in his sight—she would disappear, as if sitting here with her was only a dream that would fade away, half-remembered, before he opened his eyes? Something as wonderful as Hermione could not be a dream, someone as real as Hermione could not be a dream, but if she had died he would have been left with dreams, only dreams, of Hermione.

She shifted in his arms, gloriously real. "I was wondering- I remembered... something. Singing. Did you use the singing spell?"

_ She doesn't know.  _ "Fawkes," Severus said after a moment. "You needed the tears of a phoenix, Hermione. You were going to die. The only reason you are alive today is because Dumbledore's phoenix has a goddamn soft spot for Potter."

He could see that she was trying to process it, running through her memories and her knowledge of phoenix tears in her head. "Oh," she said after a moment. "That bad?"

Severus tightened his arms around her. "Yes," he said immediately. "That bad."  _ Worse. Enough to make me realize that I didn't want our last kiss to be our last kiss. That I couldn't lose you. That you are everything, Hermione. _

"I'm suppose I must apologize for giving you a fright, then," said Hermione, voice lilting. She turned and wiggled in his lap so that she was face to face with him, nose to nose.

He had never seen this look in her eyes before, this mix of amusement and arousal and maybe a touch of worry. Severus was deciding he liked it plenty when she kissed him carefully, open eyes meeting his as she pressed a close-mouthed kiss to his lips softly. Her lips were soft, her breath light on his face.

When she tilted her head, opening her mouth just the tiniest bit to caress his lower lip, he couldn't stand it anymore. He took her head in his hands- quickly, but gently, he didn't want to hurt her- and kissed her ruthlessly, sucking her tongue into his mouth and accidentally bumping teeth.

She pulled away first, one hand coming up to stroke his cheek. "A big fright, then?"

Severus nodded silently. She understood. "Yes. Please endeavor not to do so in the future."

"I'll do my best," she promised. "But I might get hurt again, Severus."

"I know," he said, staring into the remains of a fire in the fireplace. "I know. "

He was relaxed, not thinking of much other than the woman in his arms when he noticed that she had stiffened. "What is it?" he asked, rubbing her arms slowly. "What's bothering you?"

Hermione turned again to face him. "I don't know where I'm going to go when I get off the train tomorrow," she admitted quietly. "I just realized that Headquarters- Number 12 Grimmauld Place – is no longer safe now that Sirius is dead."

"We'll see what Dumbledore says," Severus said. "But I will be seeing you this summer. You will need to take my reports." He was quiet for a moment longer, debating his next words. "And I'm not sure I'd stay sane without seeing you at least once a fortnight."

The little happy sigh was worth the admission of feelings. "Nor would I. Are we going to try to make this work, then?"

He smiled, hiding it in her hair. "I suppose so, my dear Gryffindor."

* * *

The train hurtled along the English countryside at a supernaturally fast pace. Hermione supposed that the Hogwarts Express, like so many other objects in the magical world, was somewhat sentient. Hogwarts seemed dark now; the entire Wizarding World felt dark.

For the first time in months, Hermione missed her mother. If not warm and maternal, she had at least patted Hermione's cheek and given her a tissue. She had been comfortingly normal. She was gone, now. Somewhere in Australia.

And Hermione was here, on a train that was carrying her away from what was quite probably the safest place in England right now to a station where Severus had already warned her there might be an attack. She swallowed hard and smoothed her skirt.

The compartment was quiet. Hermione had a book open on her lap, although she wasn't reading. Luna was looking at  _ The Quibbler _ , Ginny was flipping through a  _ Witch Weekly _ quietly, and Neville was snoring with his head against the window. Harry was opposite him, staring out the glass. Hermione was the farthest away from him, purposefully it seemed. He hadn't talked to her since the fight at the Ministry. She had been in the Hospital Wing, and he hadn't come to visit, or he had only come while she was sleeping. As soon as she had been released, she had sought out Severus. She had needed comfort- explaining herself to Harry would have been draining. But being held in Severus' arms... she had left his rooms colder, but with a quiet happiness in her heart that quenched some of the fear that came with knowing the Dark Lord was no longer in hiding.

They had forced his hand, before the time he had planned. That was good for them- he hadn't had enough time to build up his army, enough time to infiltrate the Ministry. If things had gone according to plan, the Ministry and Gringotts would have quietly slipped under his control as the top human and goblin officials were either replaced with those loyal to the Dark Lord or Imperioused.

Before the Wizarding World would have even known he was back, Lord Voldemort would have had their government filled with his own people, their money controlled by his own people. No one would have been able to come in or out of the country. Muggleborns would have been rounded up, brought to the Ministry with never the suspicion that something might have been wrong. "Routine procedure" would have led to Azkaban being filled with those who had only the misfortune of being born to the wrong parents.

Ron reentering the carriage startled Hermione out of her thoughts. The redhead was large and awkward, his limbs sticking out at angles necessitated by quick and unexpected growth. There was no sense of the quiet calm Harry carried to his movements, or the grace of his sister. Ron was a boy that was poised to become a man; Hermione had thought that a battle would have pushed him over the ledge but it seemed not. Ron returned to his seat by Harry, uncomfortable with everyone looking at him.

Hermione sighed, and returned to her Transfiguration book. It was one borrowed from Severus' library, and the worn cover had been gilded with gold once upon a time. Someone had valued it- an inscription at the front had told her it had been a gift from James McGonagall to Minerva McGonagall and she didn't know if James had been a husband or father or brother or uncle- and she didn't want to know.

McGonagall had given Severus this book, probably after the death of the one who had given it to her had become too much, still too sharply painful to bear seeing a gift sitting on the shelf every day. So she had given it to a man she respected, for Christmas perhaps. The Dark Lord had wrought all sorts of pain on McGonagall, on Severus, on Hermione herself. On Harry. On all of them.

She waited a bit longer before clearing her throat. "When we get to the station, don't leave the train. Dumbledore told me to make sure us six stayed up. Order members are going to come and escort us off, just in case some Death Eaters try something."

A look of fear passed over Ginny's face- the younger girl looked at the sleeping Neville briefly before glancing back at Hermione. "Who's coming?"

Hermione bit her lip, thinking over the Order schedules she had drawn up before her exams. "Um... I think it might be Remus and Moody." They were the best fighters. It made the most sense to send them- she hoped that Dumbledore would want the best to protect his boy savior.

Harry turned away, looking out the window again. "Fine," he muttered.

It was an hour more when the train finally slowed and came to a stop, the rattling of the machinery popping Hermione's nerves into high alert.

She stood, leaning casually against the door. Hermione muttered an excuse about stretching her legs, rolling her neck to pop it loudly. Luna looked vaguely disturbed by the noise it produced.

The typical sounds of schoolchildren dragging trunks and animals off a train and reuniting with family were quick to reach their ears. Shouts of joy, the sounds of weeping parents- out of a crack in the curtains, Hermione could see that children were being embraced harder and longer by worried parents. The ones who were obviously Muggle were standing apart, some looking confused and others looking horrified. Those were the ones who had been talking to the Wizarding parents standing around.

She scanned the crowd, trying to find the known sons and daughters of Death Eaters. There- Malfoy. She could see two pale heads of hair pushing their way through the crowd, trying to leave as quickly as possible. A slim dark-haired boy with a sharp nose was being pulled along by his mother as well. Crabbe and Goyle were leaving already too.

_ It could be a sign that the homes of Death Eaters are unhappy or that purebloods don't like having family reunions in public. Or... it could mean that something is happening. _

Hermione wrenched the curtain fully shut. Harry looked like he was about to protest, but she quieted him with a look.

"We need to get you inside the bounds of your uncle's house before the Death Eaters come," she said in a low voice. "I know you don't want to go back, Harry, but you need to. It's the best protection you have at the moment."

Two sharp raps at the door alerted Hermione. With a complicated turn of her wand, she turned the door transparent, showing the two men outside the door. She had been right- both Remus and Moody were waiting, and by their side was another, younger man whom she recognized.

Another motion cancelled the transparency spell, and a second unlocked the door, letting it slide open. Hermione kept her wand pointed at the three.

"Where were we when we first met?" she demanded of Remus. The loss of his friend had visibly affected him- there were bags under his eyes and the lines on his face were deeper, as if they had been traced again with a pencil.

Nevertheless, he smiled at her wearily. "Safe House Three," he answered, sparing a quick glance at the other children. "I was sleeping. What did Severus call me?"

"A dog," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "He followed it up with an order for me to wipe the look from my face. Moody, where were you?"

"The illusion, lass, " he said gruffly. "If Lupin thinks it's you, then let's go. Diggory, get the Portkey. We've checked him multiple times, girly. Don't fret- it's him."

Looking at him made the image of a maze of twilight and sinister green hedges briefly obstruct her vision before she could see what was truly in front of her. Cedric Diggory, hale and healthy. He was tall with dark blond hair and strong features. Handsome. Although he was barely three inches taller than Remus, he seemed much, much bigger. He was bulky, like Charlie Weasley.

With a grin, Cedric Diggory reached through the doorway and handed Hermione an old newspaper. "Pleasure to see you again, Granger."

Hermione just nodded, now more focused on the Portkey. "And the password?" she asked.

"Headline on the front page," Moody growled. "Give it to Potter before it goes off."

Hermione obeyed, handing the newspaper to Harry. "It should take you to your living room at Number Four," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Go ahead."

"But what about Ron and Ginny?" Harry asked angrily. "Or Luna, or Neville? How are they going to get home safely?"

Hermione glared at him, but Moody beat her to it. "We're just here for show, Potter. Never done a day's work in our lives."

"We're getting them home safely, silly," Hermione hissed. "Use the goddamn Portkey."

While there was anger in the green eyes staring up at her, there was also fear. Fear that spoke to her of Death Eaters and loamy ground and graveyards and cauldrons. "It should be fine," she murmured. "Do you want me to go with you?" Her voice was so quiet only he could hear her.

With obvious reluctance, he nodded. There- it was settled.

"I'm going to go with Harry, then Apparate back here," she said to Remus. "I'll meet you all outside of King's Cross." She reached up, pulling down her luggage and shrinking it neatly, tucking the small trunk into her pocket. "Ginny, take Crooks with you, please?"

Ginny nodded, reaching to take the cat's basket from Hermione. "Of course."

Hermione waited as Harry slowly unfolded the newspaper, and touched the page as he read out the headline. "Death Eaters Found In Ministry Sentenced Today."

The familiar and sickening slide of a hook in her navel made Hermione nauseous, even as it jerked up and she and Harry were pulled away from the train. They were spinning dizzily for a few moments before they landed on thankfully solid ground.

With more than a little curiosity, Hermione looked around the living room of Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley. It was decorated in a heavy-handed fashion, with lots of lace doilies and little figurines. There were several pictures of an enormously fat boy with blond hair doing a variety of interesting activities; there were no images at all of the boy standing next to her.

"They aren't home?" he asked, surprised.

Hermione gave him a wane smile. "I thought it was best to give you some time alone here to get settled. They're currently waiting at King's Cross. Moody and Lupin will explain."

Harry didn't say anything, but instead stalked into the depths of the house trailing his luggage behind him. Hermione heard it thump up the stairs and winced.

She followed, noticing that once again the walls bore no evidence that anyone but the Dursleys lived in the house. Her anger, already brewing, boiled over when she first saw the cat flap on Harry's door, and then place where bars had been on his windows.

Harry had already flopped on his bed, with one arm over his eyes. "You can leave now, Hermione," he said crossly. "I'm here, I'm safe. Your job is done now, right?"

Her heart clenched. Carefully, Hermione sat at the foot of Harry's bed, smoothing the covers automatically. "Not my job as a friend," she said quietly. "How are you doing? Don't lie to me, Harry James Potter."

The words worked- Harry sat up and glared at her. "Bloody well, don't you think? First, it turns out one of my best friends isn't really my friend after all, then the Dark Lord that killed my parents managed to kill my godfather too! I led a bunch of people into a really stupid trap and they got hurt and almost died and it was all my fault!"

Hermione waited patiently, then patted his leg. "First, I'm still your friend. I care about you as more than a task, Harry, and the only reason I agreed to what Dumbledore suggested in the first place was because you were and are still one of my best friends. And yes, the Dark Lord murdered Sirius, but that is anything but your fault. Sirius knew what he was getting into when he went to fight. And you did lead us into a trap, but more importantly, Harry, you also led us out of it. And the only one who almost died was me, and I can say that I would not have changed my place at your side if we were to do it again." She watched him earnestly as she spoke, and the tears welling in his green eyes made her own eyes damp.

"I was so stupid," Harry whispered. "I should have listened to you, Hermione."

Hermione leaned over and gave him a tight hug. "Maybe you should have," she said stroking his thick dark hair. "Maybe next time you will."

_ He's just a boy, _ she thought again, not for the first time.  _ He's too young to have this burden upon him. _

"I have something to tell you," Harry said gravely. "But first, I need you to tell me the truth. About- all of this. Of you. Dumbledore explained some of it, but not all of it."

So this was it. He would tell her of the prophecy and she would tell him of her role in guarding him. The truth would emerge. A version of the truth, anyway.

"Very well," Hermione said, facing their boy savior. It was surreal that it would happen here, as she was sitting cross-legged on his bed in a dingy room in a Muggle house. But it was also fitting in a way, that it was this simple. Nothing for the history books. Just a conversation between friends, friends from the same roots, raised in this world that they were protecting. "It started with the memory I showed you..."

And there, in the silence of Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, the words on which a war hung fell from the lips of those who were no longer children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 32- and Part Two of this story! We are really blowing through this, aren't we? We have about 30 chapters before I run out of pre-written ones, so about 15 weeks. 
> 
> I deeply love and appreciate all of the comments and kudos. The world is such a grim place right now, and they are a spark of joy.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> This is the official start of PART THREE! In my humble opinion, this is when the story starts to get fun. This is the story I wanted to write... of course, I had to get 200k words of background to get here. Just for context - I started writing this when I was 15! This chapter I wrote at the tender at of 17... fun times. 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, Sorasradust!

**_Part Three_ **

**_Chapter 33_ **

Drained and tired, Hermione left the Dursley house. This time she ghosted through the rooms, no longer much concerned with the furnishings or the pictures. Her eyes were red and she couldn't see very well, but she managed to leave the house and Apparate from the back garden. She landed in an alley by the train station and checked her watch. Three turns would do it- that was at least as long as she had spent talking to Harry. In fact, three and a quarter would be even better.

One quick trip through time later, Hermione was back with the others, joining the end of their little group without attracting much attention. It took Moody a moment to notice her; the amusement on her face as he jumped was clearly not amusing to him.

"Might want to warn a man, lass," he said grumpily. "Potter's safe?"

"For the next three hours at least," she replied promptly. "But we should get a guard on the house as soon as possible." She kept her voice down, even though Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna were talking ahead of them.

Remus nodded, his face tight. "The schedule was already set up. Dung-" He stopped at the look on Hermione's face.

"The schedule I made did not have Mundungus Fletcher within thirty meters of Harry," she said, voice low and seriously irritated. "Who changed it?"

Cedric was watching her, green eyes confused. "You made the schedule?" he asked, surprised.

"Keep yer voice down, Diggory. Dumbledore changed them," Moody growled. "Stop fussing, Granger. Tonks is out for a week more and he needed someone to cover. He moved things around a bit."

_ Me, stop fussing?  _ Hermione thought grumpily.  _ He makes me arrange it all and when I have it to my exacting preferences he buggers it all up. Mistrustful old goat. And Fletcher is the most unreliable bastard I have ever met in my life. _

It was the easiest decision to drop Neville off first. The Order had thought to inform Mrs. Longbottom that her son would get an escort home and she was exceedingly pleased to receive them all for tea. Tall and proud in her vulture hat, she welcomed them into the Longbottom Family Manor as regally as any queen. When their eyes met, Augusta Longbottom gave Hermione a slight nod of acknowledgement. Startled, Hermione returned the nod solemnly.

It was while drinking the lovely tea that Augusta, who had insisted that Hermione sit next to her, leaned in and spoke so only Hermione could hear.

"I'm not sure if I should box your ears for taking the opportunity to kill Bellatrix from me and my grandson or if I should thank you for making her last moments a misery," she murmured. "Because I am gracious and you are a sharp young thing, it will be the latter."

Hermione smiled genuinely. "It was my pleasure," she said in a voice just as quiet. "The world needed her no longer."

The Longbottom matriarch nodded wisely. "You did your duty well, for a child of sixteen. Or..." her voice trailed off and her eyes focused on the gold chain that dipped into Hermione's shirt. "For however old you are."

They were drawn into the conversation of the others, laughing and enjoying tea time. Hermione joined in, even though her thoughts were elsewhere.

This woman approved of what she had done, of a person she had killed. Hermione had tried to put it from her mind as much as possible, but it was very true that Bellatrix Lestrange was dead and Hermione Granger was the witch who had killed her. Severus had said that the news would travel fast, but he hadn't said how fast. She wasn't sure she liked people knowing, reaping hatred from one side and approval from the other and fearful admiration from both.

Leaving Longbottom Manor for the Rookery and then the Burrow eased Hermione's mind. Xenophilius Lovegood was always a sight, and the Lovegood home was charming, if strange. They didn't stay as they had at Neville's home, only stopping long enough to warn Xeno about the Death Eaters who would likely be out for his daughter and the proper security precautions they should put in place.

That he was sure his home was protected by a grove of Snarglepuff trees didn't sit well with Hermione.

"We'll have an Order patrol round here twice weekly," she murmured to Moody. "Just to check up on them."

The grizzled Auror nodded. "Aye."

Molly and Arthur Weasley were overjoyed to see their kids. Fred and George were lounging in the sitting room, leaping to their feet with a synchronization that still amazed Hermione. Bill and Charlie were home too, Bill with his arm around a beautiful girl.

Hermione grinned widely at Fleur Delacour, giving the French woman a large hug after exchanging the customary kisses on the cheek.

"Nozzing in French," she ordered Hermione. "I am 'ere to practice my English, 'Ermione."

"Very well," Hermione said, laughing. "And I'm assuming Bill is your loyal tutor?"

The handsome curse-breaker winked at Hermione. "Ron is always saying you are the smart one," he said happily. "Fleur's my fiancee."

Of course, Molly Weasley was only too insistent that they all needed feeding. Hermione wouldn't turn down a home-cooked meal- and Molly's food was good. Although... the Weasley matriarch's manipulations were only too evident. Hermione and Ron were seated together at one end with Bill and Charlie, and through an insistence that the "Triwizard champions must want to catch up," Fleur and Cedric were placed on the far side of the table.

Bill shook his head, but gave in to his mother. "She means well," he muttered to Hermione. "She doesn't like Fleur."

"I can tell," Hermione murmured back. "Why? She's smart and talented. She's got a good head on those shoulders- she's not just a pretty face. She was the best student Beauxbatons had to offer for goodness sake."

"I know that, but she doesn't," he said quietly. "Mum thinks she is just a pretty face and I'm going to get my heartbroken."

Hermione harrumphed. "We'll see about that. You proposed, didn't you?"

"And she said yes," Bill said with a wide grin. "I'm the happiest man in the world, with a witch like that on my arm."

Dinner was a loud, happy affair, but Hermione was quiet, letting the sound flow around her. She would be heading to Safe House Three when this was done, to stay there until Harry was released from Number Four. She would attend Order Meetings, organize paperwork, and maybe work with Severus. She would train, study, read... but beyond the routine given, her summer stretched before her uncertainly.

As soon as they verified the safety of Number 12 Grimmauld Place they would go there. The only people who knew the secret were Order members, and they would just renew the charm on the house. After all the trouble they had gone through to clean it, there was no sense in just letting it sit. There was the question of Kreacher- Severus had mentioned something about the house-elf going mad at the news of Bellatrix's death. Apparently, Dumbledore had asked the Hogwarts kitchen elves to nurse him to health, so they could find out what exactly had happened with him and Sirius.

So... that would probably mean two weeks at Safe House Three, and then the rest of the summer at Grimmauld Place. Or the Burrow. Hermione wasn't sure she'd like to stay in the Burrow- as always, it was too bright, too noisy. Even here, surrounded by friends, she felt too crowded. She missed the quiet dinners that she took alone in her rooms, or the occasional supper that she took with Severus.

Severus. Just thinking his name made her want to smile and giggle and put a hand over the warmth that blossomed in her belly and chest. Gods, how had she fallen for him like this? He was a sardonic, unapologetic bastard yet she felt like swooning just thinking about large noses and large hands and -

"Well, Hermione has something on her mind," drawled Bill. He gave her a wicked grin. "Don't look so shocked. You're one of us now, you get ribbing just the same as Ginny."

_ Oh, that' s right. They've been 'ribbing' Ginny over Dean Thomas and Michael Corner for the last ten minutes.  _ "Last time I checked I wasn't ginger," she said primly. "You're not allowed."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It isn't like you'll get anywhere anyway," she said, still cross over her brother's jokes. "For Hermione, the idea of a hot date is a trip to the library to hook up with the latest Potions theories."

Hermione flushed, annoyance and irritation building up.  _ I know more about love and snogging than she does,  _ she thought, glaring in the girl's direction.  _ Severus actually knows what he's doing when it comes to kissing. _

"Look at her, turning bright red," crowed Ron. "It's alright, 'Mione. Snogging's not for everyone-"

"-And we wish our dear sister was more like you," interjected Fred.

"Although we doubt she-" George continued.

"-Or you-" added Fred.

"-Appreciate the sentiment," they chorused.

"I don't!" Ginny snapped. "I like fun, thank you very much. I'm sure you would just love it if I were a prude or a bookworm!"

They had drawn the attention of the other side of the table. Fleur covered her mouth with a hand, stifling her small laugh. Cedric was frowning. "That wasn't kind-" he started to say, but Hermione was already rising from the table.

_ Dinner's been finished for a good while anyway, _ she reasoned.  _ And I have better things to do than sit around here and "chat" until Molly insists that I stay. _

"I'd best be off," she said, directing her gaze to Arthur and Molly. "It's getting late and I don't want to be going through it all in the dark."

Knowing about the illusion, they nodded, although Mrs. Weasley looked loath to let Hermione leave. "Do take some pudding with you, dear," she said.

"No, thank you," Hermione said hastily, leaving her napkin on her seat and ignoring Molly's hurt look. "It's fine. I've got plenty to carry anyway."

She was edging toward the door, hoping to leave before the woman could stand and hug her. To her surprise, Cedric was standing too and saying goodbye to Fleur. "What are you doing?" she asked, perhaps a bit sharper than she should have.

Ever kind, he grinned. "You're supposed to show me to the Safe House," he explained. "The Headmaster-"

"Said nothing, as usual," Hermione said with a sigh. "Sorry. If you want to stay longer I can come back later."

Cedric shook his head, which made a lock of golden hair fall onto his brow. "No, of course not. It was a lovely meal, Mrs. Weasley."

She left as Cedric made his round of goodbyes, slipping out of the door and standing on the stoop in the cool summer air. It shouldn't have been this cold- her thoughts slipped to the day she and Severus had Obliviated her parents. He had told her that the cold was an atmospheric spell wrought by the Dark Lord.

His arm had been so sure that day, his presence so comforting. She had really been falling for him even then.  _ There was never anyone else, _ Hermione mused.  _ Krum, maybe, but not for long. As soon as I grew up and opened my eyes... there he was. _

These were the kinds of times Hermione almost wished she smoked, when she could have the comforting red tip of a cigarette and the warmth of smoke filling her chest as she felt empty and alone outside of the quiet roar of family and happiness and goodness. She didn't fit with them- there was something infernally different, something that didn't quite fit, something inside of her that wasn't inside of them. Crookshanks mewed from his basket, but she still couldn't smile.

It was times like these when she couldn't forget that she had killed people.

Ron had never faced down Death Eaters in a dark alley and decided to kill them.

Ginny had never sent a woman's heart through her chest and out the other side.

Fred and George had never buried bones in the sand dunes.

None of them knew the smell of salt sea and fear and relief, the rush of power that surges when life leaves someone's body, the tugging at the soul.

Light shone from all of them. The Weasleys and the glow of their hair and their pale skin and their smiles. Firm in knowing that they were the lightest of the light, known to all as being the pureblood family with the strongest ties to the Light. Fleur as well had a beauty that shone and beckoned, a sense of purpose. She seemed endlessly good, although most of that allure was her Veela powers. And Cedric- Cedric Diggory, handsome and earnest, Triwizard Champion and all-around good fellow.

The door opened, and the young man who she had just been considering stepped onto the stoop, ducking the low door. He was tall, with golden hair tinged with red and healthy light in his face. He was strong, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. Objectively, Hermione could definitely see why Cho had been all over him.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, regarding him with curious eyes. Why was he here? Why was he working for the Order?

He smiled and nodded.  _ It seems like he never stops smiling _ , Hermione thought, completely aware that the voice in her head was full of snark and sounded like a certain Potions Master. "Yes. Side-Along?"

Hermione offered her hand, grasping his tight when he took it. "Hold on," she ordered, turning on her heel. The two of them were forced through a metal tube, compressed, shaped, flattened, and spat out.

The landing was hard, but that was because it was extremely difficult to Apparate through an illusion. Cedric let go, leaning forward and bending his knees. Hermione stood impassively.

"It takes getting used to," she said quietly. "Take a moment and breathe before we go through."

Taking a moment herself, Hermione looked at the illusion, warring feelings pulling themselves apart in her chest. Here was the garden, with its neat stone path, its flowerbeds, and honeysuckle on the trellises just starting to come into their full bloom. Beauty was everywhere. It winked in the idyllic stream that trickled at the far end of the garden and into the forest. The honeysuckle was heavy in the hair, and there were hints of bread that had never baked woven in with the scents of flowers that had never really bloomed.

It almost physically hurt that this beauty was an illusion. Dumbledore had created it, years and years ago. Probably before she was ever born. The forest in the distance didn't exist, the brook and its tinkling song were false, the flowers were tricks of air and magic. The cottage, with its charmingly thatched roof and firm stone sides, was just magic. Everything was magic.

She wondered what this place really looked like. Was it a field? A clearing in a real forest? Or inside a dank building someplace? In the long summers that stretched twice as long, she had passed through this place over a hundred times, and never stopped to wonder before.

For all her wondering, she didn't actually want to know. The beauty hid the lie. So it was in life, and so it was in magic.

But... for all he had done, if he was capable of imaging such beauty, Albus Dumbledore could not be as wrong as he sometimes acted. Perhaps there was a good heart somewhere inside of him, a heart that could create a place with such love.

"Are you ready?" she asked Cedric, crossing her arms across her chest. He looked like he belonged here, like some kind of Prince Charming. It irritated her.

He was looking around with amazement. "Yeah. This is the Safe House?"

"No," Hermione snapped. "It's only an illusion. We need to go through it to reach the real Safe House. This is to deter those who might actually find a way to Apparate in. They would be trapped in the illusion. There are a series of guards that will stop us before we actually reach the Safe House.

She walked up the path, and Cedric followed behind her. Upon reaching the door of the cottage, she rapped the pattern with the quickness of habit. How many times had she passed back and forth between Safe House Three and Grimmauld Place?

"Passphrase," a light woman's voice commanded.

"The ashes are bare, the phoenix rises," Hermione said quickly. "Hermione Granger and Cedric Diggory for Safe House Three."

The door swung open and Hermione and Cedric passed into the cottage proper. Hestia Jones had been the one to answer, and she returned to sit at the table. "Hello," she said kindly. "Go right through."

Hermione grinned at the woman. "Nice to see you, Hestia." She checked her watch. "Are you going home now?"

"Yes," Hestia replied. "I'll set up the guardian before I go."

Cedric rubbed the back of his neck, taking in the cozy interior of the cottage. "The guardian?"

Hermione nodded. "It would be ridiculous to have someone here all the time. When someone important is coming, we station a real person. If the Safe House isn't expecting someone, we set up the guardian. It's just a guard spell- it demands the passphrase. If it is correct, the door swings open. If it is wrong, then... The guardian attacks and sends a warning to the Order."

"Oh," said Cedric. "How do we get to the Safe House?"

Hermione walked over the wardrobe, stroking the worn wood. "The wardrobe. Goodnight, Hestia." She swung open the door, feeling in the back for the magical doorknob. It sprang open to her touch and she passed through, Cedric right behind her.

The portrait room was bare and chill after the warmth of the illusion on a summer's night. The portrait of the old man, walrus moustache and red smoking jacket the same as they had been years ago, smiled at Hermione.

"Good to see you again," he said warmly. "Albus said to let you right through. The boy too." The door swung open, and they finally passed through to the real house.

They emerged in the sitting room, where the fire blazed and crackled in the fireplace. "That would be the work of the house-elves," Hermione said to Cedric, moving toward the fire. The air was chilly despite the flame. "Dobby? Minny?"

When she called their names, the two elves appeared in front of her. "Missy Miney is home!"

Hermione grinned. "I am," she said happily, shoving aside the thought that she had no idea where home was but that it wasn't at this Safe House. "This is Cedric. Where is he going to be sleeping?"

"In Miss Tonks' old room," said Dobby. "If Miss and Sir would give Dobby and Minny their trunks?"

Both teenagers dug in their pockets, pulling out the shrunken luggage. "Thanks," Cedric said. "Is there a lavatory somewhere?"

Hermione pointed at it, then followed Minny to her room. It was just as she had left it- perfect. Curling up on the bed, she fell asleep without even taking her clothes off.

* * *

Severus sneered at the portrait and crossed into the Safe House, letting the door close harder than, perhaps, he should have. The sound startled the young man reading in a chair by the fire.

In an instant, his wand was out and pointed at the man- even once he recognized the Hufflepuff, Severus didn't lower his wand.

Cedric was caught unawares, wand in his pocket. Severus' sneer deepened. "Hands up, Diggory," he snapped. "What are you doing here?"

For all that he had been a Hufflepuff, the boy was brave. "Death Eaters!" he bellowed. "Hermione-"

With a flick of his wand, Severus silenced him. "I said to explain why you were here, Diggory," he said scathingly. "Not to call and wake Miss Granger."

A sleepy and tousled Miss Granger walked down the stairs, hand trailing on the railing. "Too late, Severus. And don't be cruel to the poor boy. He didn't know and you startled him. If you had told me you were coming, I could have warned him. Or you."

Cedric's head turned between Hermione and Severus. His mouth moved, but no sound emerged. Hermione sighed and yawned. "Severus," she said, a warning in her voice.

With a swift movement, Severus released the spell and sheathed his wand. "He works for the Order," Hermione explained quickly as Cedric stood, book forgotten. "He's a Death Eater but he's a member of the Order too."

She wandered over to Severus, keeping her face carefully composed. "I know. Dumbledore said nothing this morning. He nearly gave me a heart attack when I saw him on the train this afternoon." She tilted her head, flicking her eyes at Cedric.  _ Obliviate him? _

_ No. _ Severus' answer was clear with the brief shake of his head.

Cedric was shaking his head as well. "Wait. One moment. So, not only is Hermione Granger- a fifth-year- apparently a high ranking member of the Order, but so is Professor Snape?"

Hermione patted his arm. "Let's have some tea, why don't we?" she suggested. "And we can explain a bit. Why don't you go into the kitchen and start the kettle?"

If he had been about to protest, one look at Severus quieted Cedric. He left for the kitchen.

"It wasn't nice to scare him like that," Hermione chastened, voice soft and just the tiniest bit teasing. She moved closer to Severus and poked him in the chest with a finger. "Big meanie."

Severus gave her something that could have been a small smile. He caught her finger and took her hand, bringing it up to his lips. "I only wanted to see you," he said, voice just as soft. There was a teasing lilt that was persuasion wrapped in possessiveness. "I had no idea someone else was staying here with you."

"And you thought I could use some company?" Hermione asked, caressing his face. The touch of his lips to the soft skin on the back of her hand had made her belly clench. "I revise my opinion. How sweet."

Hermione stood on her tiptoes, reaching to press a quick kiss to his lips, safe in the knowledge that the sounds in the kitchen were caused by Cedric keeping busy. "I haven't seen you for hours."

"Far too long," he agreed. Although his tone was amiable, his eyes were hot upon her face. "But. We have a small problem to deal with. How much can we tell him? Is he even a member of the Outer Circle?"

Hermione rubbed the back of her neck. "He's been inducted, that I know. I cleared his file a month ago- but I thought he was still in Switzerland. I had no idea he was going to be back in England. We can Obliviate him, if you want."

Severus snorted. "Now he'll have to be made a member of the Inner Circle. He knows too much. If we Obliviated him, Dumbledore would get upset."

In the midst of her nod, Hermione yawned again. "I suppose," she said, arching her back to stretch. She was well aware of the eyes moving to her neck and then to her torso. She straightened quickly, a flush of awkward embarrassment heating her spine. She was unused to this level of blatant desire in his gaze. "I'm bone tired."

"I'm not surprised," Severus said, putting a hand on her chin and tilting her face up to examine her features. "You still haven't fully recovered and you over-extended yourself today."

She put a hand on his wrist, wrinkling her nose at him. "I'll be getting myself back to bed once we've taken care of Mr. Diggory," she said, stroking the skin of his wrist. "You can help if you want."

His eyebrows about disappeared into his hairline. "We- I mean-"

"I was kidding," Hermione said, giggling. "I'm not sure what you had in mind, but I was thinking of you carrying me up those cursed stairs."

"Tea's ready," Cedric called.

"Perfect," Hermione said to Severus. "Let's go."

They walked to the kitchen, Severus holding the door open for her. She let him- if he wanted to be old-fashioned, she didn't mind. The mugs were on the table; Cedric was looking through the cupboards with a small frown on his face. "Where's the sugar?" he asked.

Hermione went to the cupboard closest to her and removed the sugar, putting it on the table and going to the icebox for milk. "Thank you for the tea," she said, putting a dash of milk into one cup and handing it to Severus. "Do you take milk?" she asked.

"No," Cedric said, sitting down and reaching for the sugar. "Alright. Some explanations?"

Hermione smiled blithely. "You should have been told my position when you were inducted into the Outer Circle," she said. "First of all, what do you know?"

The boy took a comforting sip of tea. "That you protect Harry Potter. Someone whispered something about a Time-Turner, but those are illegal."

Hermione's hand went to the pearl at her throat, her fingers brushing against the chain that held the hidden Time-Turner in the process. "Of course." The corners of Severus' mouth tightened, his version of a laugh in the present company. "Yes. That is the gist of it. Harry gets into trouble, I get him out of it. You saw a prime example during the last task."

Cedric looked between them. "That's it?" he asked cautiously.

"No," Severus said shortly. "But that's all you need to know. Trust her, listen to her, treat her orders as you would treat orders from Minerva McGonagall or Headmaster Dumbledore. Do not treat her as you would any other schoolgirl." Hermione shot him a look, which Severus promptly ignored. "And remember- if she had not taken your place that night, you would have died."

Hermione felt her cheeks burn. "Was that really necessary, Severus?" she muttered under her breath.

"Yes," he said shortly, dark eyes fixed on Cedric, measuring his worth. "If he's going to be here with you, he needs to know to respect you properly."

"That's very well and good," Hermione said, struggling to keep her voice calm, "but that doesn't resolve our problem. Can you speak to Albus in the morning?"

Severus heaved a great sigh. "Of course."

"The next meeting of the Inner Circle will take place the day after tomorrow," Hermione informed Cedric. "I'll explain a bit more before then."

Cedric nodded, looking a bit dazed. They were all quiet for a moment, Severus and Hermione watching the boy expectantly.  _ Wonder when he'll realize that we're waiting for him to excuse himself, _ Hermione thought wryly.

When it seemed like he wouldn't get the message, Severus stood, letting the chair make an angry scraping sound. "I'll give my report in the practice room, then," he snapped.

Hermione stood as well, making far less noise. "I'll run up and grab what I need," she said calmly. "Goodnight, Cedric."

When she and Severus were situated in the practice room, he was fairly glowering. Hermione sighed and sat cross-legged on the floor waiting for him. "What is it?" she asked kindly.

"I don't like him," Severus answered shortly. "I taught him in class and he's-"

"Bright and well-respected and a talented Transfiguration student," Hermione answered, trying to keep her smile from her face. "I like Cedric. He's new to all of this but he will be a valuable addition to the Order. He's dedicated to the side of light, and, as you just let him know, he owes me his life. He's going to try to repay that debt. And he respects Harry. Other people respect him and when they see that he respects Harry, that will add to Harry's credibility."

Severus frowned. "Glad to know you like him so much," he snarked. "Doesn't hurt that he's the definition of a pretty boy." He was rigid, leaning against the wall with far too much tension in his body.

Hermione laughed outright.  _ He's jealous!  _ "He's not my type," she said through giggles. "I like them taller. And older. And... darker. He's a golden boy. Too innocent. I might break him if I'm not careful." She stood, leaving her notebook and pens on the floor so she could stop craning her neck to see Severus' face.

"Oh?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Sometimes I feel like you might break  _ me _ if I'm not careful enough." His arms were crossed over his chest; Hermione mirrored his posture.

"Strange," she said, meeting his eyes. "I feel like it's the other way around."

His arms came down, one hand reaching for her face with only a hint of awkwardness. His hand caressed the side of her face, fingers trailing to her neck. "I would never hurt you," he said, vulnerable and serious. "I'm... clumsy with matters of the heart, but I know that-"

"Clumsy or no, I don't really care, as long as you're you," Hermione told him, moving closer so she could press against him. "Severus Snape... you are more than enough for me. I don't think anyone else could quite complete me in the way that you do. Happy?"

His eyes were dark as he lowered his head to kiss her. "Very."

* * *

Morning came to find Hermione in her bed, sleeping in for the first time in months. She had stayed up late with Severus the night before- they had eventually gotten around to her taking his report and discussing the events of the Ministry. The two of them had gotten a reaming from Dumbledore as soon as Hermione had recovered enough to be yelled at, and they had no desire to repeat the experience in front of the Inner Circle.

When she finally did wake, Hermione luxuriated in her bed, stretching and yawning with sleepy happiness. The slight twinges of pain from old injuries were only slight and the sun was bright outside the curtains. She could swim, sit down and read a book without countless interruptions for the first time in months, and just generally spend a day in peace and quiet.

There was only the slight problem of Cedric Diggory... but hopefully, he'd avoid her after the events of the night before. Even so, Hermione made sure to pull on a robe before leaving her room, belting it tightly around her waist. She didn't want anyone she was barely on a first name basis with seeing her in the old shorts and tank top that were her pyjamas.

Ambling down the stairs and into the kitchen, Hermione started the coffee maker with the quickness of habit, puttering around to make her own breakfast as drip by drop, the coffee brewed.

When she had first lived in the Safe House, at the tender age of thirteen, the elves had insisted on cooking. She had slowly wrested breakfast away from them by waking at odd times and ignoring whatever was on the table. Some feelings were hurt, but she ended up getting her way without earning the animosity of the house-elves.

Before long Hermione was sitting at the breakfast table, heavy book propped against a carafe of orange juice and toast and coffee in hand. Vaguely she noted Cedric wandering in, glancing at her, and awkwardly shuffling through the cupboards again. She put up with it for a few minutes before sighing and looking up from her tome.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Cedric didn't flush, but he did give off a general air of self-effacement. "Cereal. Or breakfast something that doesn't involve cooking."

Hermione sighed. "Do you want the house elves to make you something?"

"I can't cook," the man explained. "Lollie- my old house-elf- would never let me in the kitchen except to watch and taste test. But I wouldn't want to bother them."

"They would love it," Hermione told him, returning to her book. "Dobby..." she waited until she heard a pop. "Cedric would like something to eat, if you aren't busy." She stood, smiled absentmindedly at the elf, and, holding her coffee in one hand and toast in the other, wandered into the next room, the book floating in front of her.

Cedric frowned after her. "Did I bother her?" he asked the elf.

"Yous mustn't worry about it," Dobby told him seriously, wiping his hands on a small frilly apron that he was wearing. "Missy is bothered by everything before her coffee has been filled two times."

Hermione frowned at the files spread out on her desk.  _ This doesn't make much sense... _ she thought, tapping a pen against her lips.

Her bedroom in the Safe House doubled as her office, making life easy when she had work to do late at night- her bed was in the corner, ready for her to tumble into. The desk was dark wood, outfitted with many cubbies and compartments for the tools of her trade.

Currently, however, a number of parchments on the subject of one Cedric R. Diggory were obscuring the wood and occupying the mind of the woman who was perusing them.

"His family has traditionally hovered on the edge of light and dark," she murmured, thinking aloud. "Never affiliated directly. Father well placed at the Ministry, mother is a housewife who also manages the family's affairs. The affairs include their many investments in foreign trade with the rest of Europe, including many exports to Switzerland... which explains why he was able to get that apprenticeship. Additionally, Master Futherlund was an old... friend... of Mrs. Diggory nee Selwyn. The Diggorys are distant relations of most of the purebloods."

_ So they're well placed in society, and mummy dearest found a very socially acceptable way for Cedric to escape the war and get a world-class education at the same time. So why come back? There is no reason to return at the height of the growing war. He was safe, his parents could have been planning on taking an extended vacation, and they're balanced just so that if the Dark Lord should win they would be fine. Cedric is exactly what every pureblood family dreams of- connections, wealth, but distantly related so that the bride and groom will be fifth or sixth cousins instead of second or third. _

Hermione sighed and shoved the papers away, tangling her fingers in her hair and tugging lightly. It reminded her of Severus, that motion, and she found that she was doing it more and more often as her frustration grew.

Well, there was only one way to make some progress in sorting out this confusing little mystery, and that was to ask Cedric himself.

Before she left her room, Hermione tapped her watch to leave Severus a message, should something go wrong.  _ Going to ask C pointed questions now. Will check back in when finished. _

If anything were to go wrong, he, at least, would know where she had been and who she had been talking to.

* * *

"Sit," Hermione ordered in the guise of polite concern. She focused on pouring the tea gracefully, the wisps of steam bringing a small smile to her face.

Cedric looked a bit hesitant, but he did as she asked and accepted the tea as she handed it to him. It was to his taste- she had noted his preferences and used them. Hermione wanted the boy off balance, and it served her well to confuse him thus.

"Now, I just had a few questions," she said brightly, holding her own delicate teacup lightly. "Before tomorrow's meeting."

He looked awkward, charmingly so. Looking at him objectively, Hermione could see very clearly how Cho and half the girls at Hogwarts could have fallen for him. Smart, charming, rich... and handsome. "The screening process Professor Snape was talking about?"

She smiled at him, not letting the emotion reach her eyes. "That one exactly. My first question. What houses were your parents in?"

Cedric sat back, rubbing at the back of his neck. "My dad was a Hufflepuff like me," he said slowly. "And my Mum didn't go to Hogwarts."

"And where did she go?" Hermione asked, taking down notes in the small journal that had appeared in her lap. "Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?"

"Beauxbatons," answered Cedric. "They don't have houses there."

Hermione nodded. "I'm aware," she said.  _ I'll be calling upon Hagrid and Olympe, then, I suppose. _ "And where was your apprenticeship?"

"In a small Wizarding village- West Housen. The Charms Master was something of a recluse," explained Cedric. "I didn't have very much contact with the outside world. Which was, you know, very conducive to learning."

"So why leave?" Hermione asked bluntly. "A lovely Charms apprenticeship your mother undoubtedly used her many connections to snag for you... why give that up to join a war?"

Many emotions flashed on Cedric's face- anger, shock, guilt. Hermione read each of them calmly, although she didn't try to penetrate his mind using Occlumency. She had more than a suspicion that his mother had taught him something of the mind arts.

When he didn't answer, she smiled thinly. "Certainly not for Miss Chang... she's over you, now, if you haven't heard. If you were here for her, it wouldn't be for long. And you've passed my initial security check, which means that if you are a spy you are a very good one."

He was flushing, red flooding into his cheeks. "I'm not a spy!" he said in a voice just shy of a shout.

Hermione put down her teacup and regarded him with cool eyes. "So what are you?" She waited a moment longer. "Guilty? Reckless? Hungering for glory? Because if glory is what you are seeking, this is not the war to find it in. This is war, Cedric, and it is going to get very bloody very quickly. Your mother did not want you here for this. You should go back to Switzerland. If you still want to help, the Order can-"

"I am guilty," Cedric interrupted. His eyes were haunted, almost envious as they stared into her own as if he was trying to look into her soul. "What kind of person do you think I am, that you think I could be unaffected by what happened after the Triwizard Tournament?"

Hermione frowned- that hadn't occurred to her. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm seconds away from winning the Triwizard Tournament when you show up out of nowhere," Cedric said, breathing hard. His cheekbones were still colored, although his voice was calmer. "You push me away from the Cup and then you and Potter are gone- gone, with no explanation!" Cedric stood, pacing nervously about in the small tea room. "Then as soon as I'm out of the maze, Professor Snape is in my face demanding to know where you have gone- believe me, so much more makes sense now- and then everything is crazy and people are running around like Krups with rabies and my parents are fussing over me and then you come back."

Hermione's frown deepened as she thought back to that night, to that awful Portkey trip back to Hogwarts with her back torn in two. "I don't remember much of it," she said slowly. "Coming back. The memory is a bit hazy."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Cedric said seriously. "You and Potter both- covered in blood. So much blood everywhere."

They were both quiet for a few more moments, remembering. Hermione's own memories were not as hazy as she had claimed- there were a few things that she remembered with sickening clarity. The pain, for one. Harry's face, for another.

And Severus' arms, scooping her up, her dazed wonder at his strength, and then Fawkes and the warm flash of phoenix travel. The Hospital Wing's antiseptic smell and the white starchiness of sheets, then nothing for a long while.

Had she seen Cedric's face in the crowd? She hadn't been concerned for him, then. All she had worried about was carrying Harry from that awful graveyard alive. Getting him back to Hogwarts, alive. Her one task, back then. Back before her life had filled with notes and meetings and files and reports and managing the Order and helping Severus with their spy network and all the little tasks that ate into her time now...

Cedric was continuing- she brought her attention back to him. "All I could think about was what would have happened if it had been me who had taken the cup and not you and Harry. If I had gotten to it first."

Still half lost in her own thoughts, Hermione didn't give her answering words as much thought as she should have. "You would have died," she said. He didn't look as much stricken as accepting. "Or not," she hastened to amend. "Crouch- the Death Eater who was impersonating Moody- was patrolling to make sure that Harry would be the one to get the cup. No one else had any chance. If by some chance you had managed to get it before him, you would have been dead minutes later. The only reason I’m still here is that a Death Eater owed me a life debt. They wanted Harry for a very specific purpose, and if things hadn't played out the way he would have wanted, they would have cut their losses and found a way to get Harry later. You would have just been... spare parts. Death and killing is nothing to the Dark Lord."

Cedric sat down, picking up his teacup again. "Well. That confirms something I had been thinking for a long time."

"But that doesn't answer my question of why you would leave your apprenticeship. Guilt? Over not dying?" To her surprise, he nodded. "That's ridiculous," she said bluntly. "Not dying is something to feel good about, not something to risk your life over again. Just say thank you and get back to Switzerland."

Cedric was glaring at her. "I can't," he said huffily. "And this is my way of saying thank you. I want to do something meaningful for the war effort- for the Order. If the Order hadn't been there I would have died."

"It wasn't the Order," Hermione snapped. "It was Severus gathering intelligence and me protecting our only hope against Voldemort. This war isn't going to be won by hopeful volunteers who nobly sacrifice their careers for a short period of time, then get together every five years after the war is done to exchange heroic stories. It's going to be dark, Cedric. Dark and dangerous, and hopeless at times. He is more powerful than you can even imagine. He has magical power, he has financial power, and he has infiltrated the Ministry at the highest levels. He has people in places all over the UK, all over the world. In a matter of months, he will be poised to take over the magical government of England. In a year, he could have control over the Muggle government as well. And he's not going to stop at England. This green and pleasant land of ours isn't the only thing he's after."

"I understand that," argued Cedric. "I-"

"I don't think you do," Hermione interrupted, perfectly serious. "I don't think you realize that this is going to come down to maybe three spells between a boy and a Dark Lord, and whoever happens to come out on top is who wins. It is  _ hopeless,  _ Cedric. There are only two possibilities and the one outcome we want is dependent on a boy who needs me nagging him to study for his O.W.L.s."

Hermione had no way to realize that her voice was taking on the smooth and dangerous lilts that Severus so often employed, that her eyes had taken a dark and penetrating cast that was currently pinning Cedric to his chair.

"I still want to help," Cedric said, a bit fainter than before. "I want to fight him."

Hermione leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "Very well, then. We'll induct you into the Inner Circle tomorrow. I hope I've done something to impress upon you the seriousness of the decision you've just made."

"If we're so bad off, why are you doing this?" Cedric said, still glaring. "Why are you trying to discourage me?"

Hermione opened her eyes and lifted one eyebrow. Cedric's mouth snapped shut. "I'm trying to do you a favor," she said sharply. "When I got into this, I had no idea what it was going to be or what our meager odds of winning were. I wasn't even finished with my second year of Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory, and only one person made any attempt to warn me of what I was agreeing to. I'd be damned if I don't try to save someone else a fraction of what I have endured—and I don't have the worst of it. You have a choice. We could Obliviate you and send you back to Switzerland and it would all be hunky-dory for you."

With that, she stood. "The meeting will be conducted at the Burrow tomorrow night. You might think that you recall how to get there on your own, but if you search your memory you will find that you've mysteriously forgotten. I will meet you in the portrait room at quarter past six."

Hermione didn't look behind her as she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 33.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I adore and the comments and kudos, as per usual. I've been craving some good SSHG fanfic, so if anyone has good recommendations, I'd appreciate them!


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! What a week, folks. 
> 
> This chapter is a lot of fun bits and fewer serious bits... just what we need right now. Enjoy!

**_Chapter 34_ **

The bathtubs at Safe House Three were not quite as comfortable as those in the Prefect's Bathroom at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, sinking into the warm water after the quite tiring meeting was pleasant, soothing away the heated arguments and Cedric's nearly defiant oath to the Order. And Dumbledore's smug smile... if she was right, Hermione had figured out why Cedric was back in England, and she was quite sure that a man with a long white beard had had something to do with it.

She couldn't stay in the warm water for long; there was too much to do and, as usual, not enough time. Every Order meeting of late ended with a new list of things that she had to do. At least the one point she had fought for was finished- they would make Number 12 Grimmauld Place their headquarters once more. The only problem left to take care of there was the matter of Kreacher, and he was still healing in the Hogwarts' kitchen. Dobby reported to Hermione about him twice weekly, and had predicted at least another three weeks before he was fit for human company.

Hermione was at her desk, working on reports, when a quiet knock sounded at her door. Surprised, she glanced up at the clock above her desk- it was nearly three in the morning. The only person knocking at this hour would be Severus.

She couldn't stop the small smile that came to her face at that thought.

"Hello," she said, pulling open her door. Her dark spy was on the other side, as she had thought. He was in full regalia, dark robes and a frock coat under them. His hair, left to hang around his face, gave him a foreboding cast. She grinned up at him, feeling as silly as a third-year.

His mouth turned up a fraction in a smile. "Hello," he said.

"Do you want to come in?" Hermione asked, pulling the door wider and stepping aside. "We can talk while I sort reports?"

He hesitated, which was unlike him. "I shouldn't," he said after a moment. His jaw clenched, and she saw something jump under his skin.

She leaned against the door, crossing her arms. "Oh?" she asked. "And why is that?"

Severus' eyes flicked to her, then into the darkness of her bedroom, lit only by the small fire and the floating jars of bluebell fires she used as her desk lamp. "It wouldn't be... decent," he said, struggling with the words for a moment. He looked at her again, dragging his gaze from her legs (exposed, bare) up her torso to her shoulders and neck where it lingered before meeting her eyes. "I'm only a man, Hermione."

"Nonsense," she said, swallowing hard to ease the tightness around her lungs. "You've done things a bit less decent than coming into my bedroom. And so have I."

The jaw muscle ticked again. "Which is why I'm trying to do this properly."

"Do what properly?" persisted Hermione, raising an eyebrow. "We've already technically slept together, Severus-"

"Not so loud," he hissed, glancing around. "The Diggory boy must be around here somewhere."

"Then come inside, Severus," Hermione insisted, holding the door open again. "And explain in here. I promise I won't besmirch your virtue."

He scowled at her, but a sound on the stairs made him step inside her room quickly. She shut the door, reaching for the robe hanging off the hook on the back. She slipped it on and belted it tightly, turning to face him as she lifted her hair around her shoulders.

"Better?" she asked. It wasn't much- it was old, so it rode rather high on her thigh. But it covered more than her nightclothes did, so she supposed it would please him.

As strange as it was to see his tall gaunt shape in her bedroom, it was fitting. He nodded, still looking more than slightly uncomfortable. "Slightly."

Hermione moved to sit at her desk, crossing her legs neatly. "Sit down," she said, gesturing to the only other place to sit: the bed. "Is there something important?"

Severus frowned at her. "I don't only come to see you when I have something to report," he said, a note of fine irritation wound through his voice. "Perhaps I only wanted to see you and... talk."

She felt subtly chastened. "Oh. Why?" He had shrugged off his robes, draping them over the hook that her robe had vacated, then following with the frock coat.

Finally, in a white shirt and black trousers, he sat. "You ask too many questions," he grumbled.

"You're too confusing," Hermione countered. "Why does it matter that all of a sudden you are in my bedroom or that I'm in pyjamas?" She huffed. "More questions, I know. But can you answer these ones?"

Severus stood, beckoning her closer. Reluctantly, Hermione stood and took the few steps necessary in the small room to stand in front of him.

He smiled at her, a rare sight on his cruel face, and brought a hand up to cup her cheek. "There have been few things that I have done right in my life, Hermione. And I am determined that one of them is going to be my courtship of Hermione Granger."

There was a fluttering in her chest that made Hermione close her eyes, afraid that her feelings might leak out. "So you've decided, then?"

"If we are going to do this, we are going to do it properly," Severus murmured. "I should have done so from the beginning."

Hermione brought her hand up to stroke his. "But I kind of like the way things have been going," she insisted. "If you have a problem seeing me in pyjamas-"

"Hardly something suitable to sleep in," Severus interrupted. "But continue."

It was summer- a worn pair of soft shorts and a thin camisole were more than suitable! She glowered at him good-naturedly. "Hush. But if you have a problem with that, how are you going to feel about kissing?"

"Strongly," Severus assured her. "Very strongly."

"Good," Hermione said, turning her head to press a small kiss to his palm. "Because I've found that I'm quite fond of the kissing."

There was no questioning the smirk on his face. "Really?" He dipped and pressed the lightest kiss to her forehead. "I am too."

Scowling, she stepped away. "I was hoping by 'properly' you meant-" she stopped. Hermione really had no idea what she was expecting- or what he was. She sighed. "I actually don't know."

Moving away to sit in her chair again, Hermione rubbed her temples quickly. "What were you thinking?"

He returned to sit on the bed once more. "We've been... a bit disorganized," he said slowly.

"And gods know how the two of us feel about disorganization," Hermione quipped.

There was a subtle quirking up of the corners of his mouth. "Strongly," he said with a nod. "So I was hoping that maybe we could organize this... whatever it is that we have."

"It is most definitely a relationship," Hermione said. "Don't be denying that now."

He nodded again, seriously. Hermione couldn't tell if he was truly being serious or if he was merely being facetious- she narrowed her eyes but allowed him to continue. "There are many kinds of relationships, Hermione. There is the relationship one has with his or her parents, or with dear friends, or with masters or servants-" He was definitely being facetious. She threw a quill at him, which he neatly deflected with a flick of his wrist.

"Prat," she muttered. "Honestly, Severus-" She squeaked and ducked as the quill flew back at her. "Stop it!"

"You started it," he reminded her smoothly. "But continuing. How should we define this? How should it progress?"

"Naturally," Hermione insisted. "It's not a potion, Severus. It's something that should just... happen."

"So you believe," Severus said. "I find the prospect of just forging blindly ahead potentially disastrous. What happens if you just add ingredients to a potion and don't frequently take its measure? If the rules are not followed?"

"You get an explosion," Hermione said quietly. The silence spread as she steadied her nerves. "Would it be so awful if we... exploded?" When she met his eyes, they told her that behind those dark depths his mind was filled with the same images as hers: contrasts of darkness and skin, hot mouths and hungry hands-

Taking in breath was difficult with her eyes still locked with his. Hermione was aware of the air against her bare legs, of the feel of the silky fabric of her robe on the skin of her chest, that she wasn't wearing a bra and that just staring in his eyes was making her nipples harden.

"It could be messy," Severus said, his voice not sounding affected at all. "Dangerous..."

"I'm a Gryffindor," she reminded him, keeping their gaze locked as she rose slowly. "I live for danger." The memory of the last time they had exchanged almost the same words kept her moving until she was sitting on the edge of her bed with him.

_ This time he isn't turning me away, _ she thought triumphantly.  _ This time he isn't saying that it is impossible; we are together here because we have something incredible together. He isn't going to avoid danger with every bone in his body because this isn't as dangerous as he thought it was. _

Her breath was coming faster. This was what she wanted, to be near him, and he was so tantalizingly close. Severus' hands were clenched- he was attempting to maintain some control. She smoothed her hand over the hard fist. "It's alright to lose some control," she murmured. "It's only me."

Then those hands that had been tightened into fists were open and skimming up her sides, hot on her waist as they laid her back on the bed, her head just barely colliding with the pillows instead of the wall. The sensations were coming all at once, too fast to process or protest. As strong hands moved up her torso a thumb flicked over her nipple, sending a fission of pleasure to the place where suddenly a hard leg was pressed between her thighs and pressing into  _ that _ place and a lithe body was heavy on hers and the hot mouth that she had been thinking about earlier was sucking her neck and before moving up to her mouth.

Pressing up against him, Hermione kissed Severus back just as savagely as he was kissing her, the fingers of one hand digging into his shoulder and the other wound in his hair. The thumping of her heart was loud in her ears. It was only a handful of heartbeats before his harsh mouth gentled and Severus broke the kiss, letting his forehead rest against hers as they both breathed hard.

"This is what happens if I lose control," he said breathlessly. "Explosions aren't so much fun now, are they?"

A laugh that was half air left her throat. "I think I'm quite fond of explosions too," Hermione said, grinning. "Were you expecting this to scare me?"

His forehead wrinkled against hers as he frowned. "It didn't?" he asked.

"On the contrary," she assured him, swallowing hard as he lifted himself off her a bit. The shift put pressure on the leg that was pressed against her core in a very thrilling way yet that also made her stomach twist uncertainly-

It seemed that he noticed the look on her face; with something like a grimace he briskly untangled them. Hermione heaved a sigh, but let him do it, slightly relieved. "I shouldn't have done that," he said.

Hermione sat up, rubbing the back of her head. "I actually think that it was very good that you did," she said, still sorting her thoughts as she said the words.

"Is that so?" Severus drawled, tilting his head to look up at her. He was still laying down in the bed sprawled out.

She reached out, not sure if she wanted to playfully hit him like she would Ron or jab him like she would Harry. Neither seemed like a good option, so she settled for trailing her fingers up his thigh. "Yes," she said, watching her fingers trace patterns on the black fabric.

His hand shot out, capturing her wrist. "Careful, Hermione," warned Severus.

"Sorry," she murmured, although she didn't move her hand. "I don't know how to explain it, exactly."

Looking at the coverlet of her bed wasn't doing much- she raised her head to look Severus in the eye, hoping he would see what she was asking.

He sighed. "We can't go invading each other’s minds just because words are difficult," he said tartly. "I don't think I've impressed upon you the seriousness of letting someone into your mind."

"You have," she assured him, half distracted by the hand that was still loosely holding her wrist. "I wouldn't let anyone other than you." Thinking back to the events of a few days before, Hermione wrinkled her nose. "And once Harry in an emergency. I needed him to trust me."

There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, although not on his face. "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't mention Potter when moments ago we were three layers of clothing away from-" He stopped, eyes glittering. "But if it would be easier for you to let me into your mind..."

She reached up her other hand, drawing her fingers along his jaw until she was holding his head in place. "Look," she whispered.

"Legilimens," he answered, delving into her mind. There was pressure for a moment, and then he was just on the outside of her mental defenses. She let them down in one sweeping movement, taking him inside the memory that was wrapped in tangles of confused emotion.

_ Lust, hot and spiking and pulsing at the edges of her skin and rising to meet him and surprise as rough hands framed her body and there was a pressure on the little nub of her breast that both scared her and sent more lust to the aching between her thighs. There was a curl of unease right over her navel that was exhaled as a hard leg pressed to her center and lips were burning on her neck. There was disorientation and confusion and yet also the certainty that the weight of the man above her  _ belonged _ there as much as air belonged in her lungs and magic in her body. _

He withdrew partially from her mind but they stayed poised on her bed, eyes meeting and minds barely touching. The arousal had risen in her again, making her mouth feel heavy and her breath come fast. Hermione could feel the fluttering of Severus' pulse under her fingers, the harshness of his jaw. His eyes were dark, consuming.

Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers, sweetly caressing her bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth. At the same time, he was experiencing it along with her, the taste of his own mouth and the feeling like champagne bubbles popping in his/her stomach.

A hand that had been resting lightly on her waist rose to her ribs, then tentatively rose, long fingers still skimming her sides as his palm came to rest over her breast. The heat of his hand through her shirt was distracting her from the kiss- he could feel it in her mind and she felt his small laugh.

He felt her small hurt- and pulled away, removing his hands. Hermione drew in a shaky breath as they lost all contact.

Awkwardness settled between them, heavy and disturbing.

"I didn't mean anything by it-"

"I'm sorry-"

Their words jumbled together and stumbled to a halt.

Hermione brushed her hair back, looking at the coverlet and not Severus. "You didn't have to stop."

"You were uncomfortable," Severus said stiffly. "It would have been wrong of me to continue."

Heat was rising to her cheeks: the blotchy embarrassment kind, not the attractive kind. "You wouldn't have known-"

"But I did know," Severus interrupted. "Now do you see why it might not be such a good idea to let me into your mind this often?"

Hermione bit her lip, flicking her eyes up to him and away again when she saw he was looking at her. "It wasn't anything serious," she insisted.

When she chanced a look again, his eyebrows were raised. "You were upset."

"Only because you thought it was funny," she mumbled.  _ A thousand sarcastic jokes and he never cracks a smile but he laughs at me now? _ "Honestly, I wasn't really very upset at all."

"You were upset enough that I noticed," Severus countered.

She glared at him. "Don't you get upset when people laugh at you?"

There was a terrible gentleness in his face as he reached over and cupped her face. She closed her eyes to it, not wanting to witness it any longer. "When people laugh at me," Severus said quietly. "But strangely enough, I have found that you are not 'people,' Hermione."

"If you saw it then you know why I was upset," Hermione said, opening her eyes to look at him. "If it had been anyone else,  _ anyone _ else, Severus, it wouldn't have mattered as much." When he didn't say anything, she hastened to elaborate. "I'm new to all of this, I have no idea what I'm doing," she said, the words tumbling around each other in her haste to get them out. "If I was figuring it all out with someone who was just as inexperienced, who had equally no idea what they were doing, them laughing at me doing it wrong wouldn't be so- so-"

Severus' lips were pressed to hers again, but only for a moment. "You didn't do anything wrong," he said, face and voice stern. He turned himself so that he was leaning against the pillows and gestured for her to come to him. With a rueful smile on her face, she moved over and leaned against his chest. A friendly arm draped over her midsection, and with a long sigh, she rested her head on the hard planes of his chest.

"But I did," she insisted. It was easier, now that she wasn't looking at him. She could talk to the familiar walls of her bedroom rather than that face that twisted her thoughts in her head. "You know what you are doing, Severus. I have no idea. I don't even know  _ how  _ to bloody snog a bloke-"

She felt his breath on her hair and the side of her neck. "You'll learn, Hermione," he murmured. "You've been doing fine so far..." A soft chuckle made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "I certainly haven't had anything to complain about." A sweet kiss was pressed to the skin right below her ear.

"But you've had something to laugh at," she whispered.

The lips moved. "It wasn't the kind of laugh you thought it was," he said, voice smooth and compelling, charming, swaying. "Tell me. The first time you did a spell properly, what did you do?"

Hermione frowned- the memory was hard to conjure. "A regular spell?"

"Or one that was immensely difficult. Humor me, sweetling." The endearment sent a small thrill into the shivery section under her heart.

"You don't use words like sweetling," she said accusingly.

"Normally when I'm talking to my students I prefer to use words like 'idiot' or 'dunderhead,' but since I actually like you, I chose something different," Severus said impatiently. "But if you don't understand the meaning of 'humor me' I might have to change my mind."

"Prat," she said. He wasn't fooled- there was more than enough affection in her voice.

"Know-it-all," he countered.

She grinned. "That's more like you," she said, stroking his hand.

"I do try so hard to please." The drawl in his voice told her that as much as he was enjoying their exchange of words, he wanted her to as he had instructed.

Settling more firmly back into him, Hermione tilted back her head so that it was resting more on his shoulder. "The first really difficult spell I cast... it was one of the hard ones you told me to practice here, at the Safe House. I had been struggling with it for hours..."

"And what did you do when you finally cast it successfully?" he asked. "Tell me everything."

Hermione frowned, trying to remember. "I couldn't believe it at first, I think. I just stared at the shield- it wavered and then it broke."

"Why?" prompted Severus. "What did you do when you realized you had done it?"

Hermione turned around in his arms, so she could look at his face. "I laughed," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I was so happy that it had worked I just started laughing."

The half-smile he gave her was small and crooked but it was a smile. "Something had finally gone right," he said, voice almost teasing. "You were so happy, so filled with joy... that it came out as a laugh."

"So you're trying to say that you weren't laughing because I didn't know how to kiss, you were laughing because..." Hermione let her voice trail off, unable to keep the scepticism from her tone.

"Because knowing that you are in my arms gives me the same feeling of successfully completing a complex potion," Severus said tartly. "But it was also very amusing that I could distract you completely with only a simple-"

He was cut off by her lips on his. Hermione pulled away, wrinkling her nose at him. "Shut up," she instructed crossly. "I am quite sure that the only way for me to improve is practice. Now I could get it from you, or perhaps form a study group of my peers-"

"From me, definitely," responded Severus in a low voice, dark eyes flashing as she turned around fully so that she was straddling him.

They had been kissing quite pleasantly for a few moments when Severus' arm around her tightened uncomfortably, and he roughly broke the kiss.

"The Dark Lord is calling," he said, face drawn. The tension in his body made the cords of his neck stand out and his shoulders stiff. "I must go."

Hermione moved off of him, letting him stand and shrug on his coat and robes. "Let me know that you're safe," she said worriedly, rising as he opened the door.

Snape nodded, checking that the hall was clear. "I'll return when the gathering is over," he informed her. "I'm expecting it to last well into the morning, so sleep now."

Once his black coat disappeared down the stairs, Hermione shut her door. Sleep seemed like a good idea, despite the incomplete pile of reports and notes.

* * *

Privet Drive was quiet in the full heat of the summer day. Wilting lawns guarded rows of identical houses whose only distinction was the black number over the door. Hermione was the only person on the pavement, although there were faint sounds of children's laughter coming from the park a street over.

As she stepped to the door of Number Four, a curtain twitched from the upstairs window of Number Three.  _ A gossip, then _ , she thought, studiously ignoring another flick of the curtain. She rang the bell once, politely. When there was no sound from inside the house, she rang it again.

"I'll give them ten seconds before I break-in," Hermione muttered to herself. "Nine... eight..."

The door was wrenched open and a thin woman with a long neck was glaring down at her suspiciously. "You're not one of Dudder's friends," she said, eyes narrowing, "so that means you must be one of  _ them _ ."

Hermione smiled sweetly. "Severus did say that you were charming," she said, widening her grin to show her teeth. "You can slam your door if you'd like but your lovely neighbor is watching."

The woman- Petunia Dursley- blanched when Hermione mentioned Severus. "Come in, then," she said ungraciously.

"Thanks ever so much," Hermione said happily, stepping over the threshold. She could feel the hum of magic as she passed within the bounds of the house, although the older woman probably couldn't. Or perhaps she could, being the sister of Lily Evans. One could never know. Hermione's own mother could sometimes sense magic being used around her, although her dad could never feel it quite as keenly. "I would have hated to have had to use magic to get in here."

"You can't," Petunia snapped. "So don't bluff. You children can't use magic outside of school."

"Children can't," Hermione agreed. "But I'm not a child anymore. Is Harry upstairs?" She turned toward the stairs, craning her neck. "I know where the room is. I can see myself up."

Nostrils flaring, Petunia crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd prefer if you stayed down here," she said. "I'll fetch him."

Hermione nodded. "As you wish."

It wasn't long before Harry was bounding down the stairs, a cautious grin on his face. "Hermione!" It was clear that summer didn't suit him- there were dark circles under his eyes that Hermione took as loss of sleep due to nightmares and guilt. He hadn't been eating much either. Hermione resolved to get him to Molly Weasley's cooking as soon as she could.

She smiled warmly at him, giving him a quick hug. "It's good to see you, Harry," she said happily. "Is there somewhere we could talk?"

As he pulled away, Harry glanced at his aunt and then at Hermione. "Let's go to the park," he suggested hastily.

Hermione repressed a smile. "Let's," she agreed. "But grab your wand before we go."

"But I can't do magic," Harry said, frowning.

Hermione nodded. "I know. But out there... outside the walls of this house, I can't make sure no one will attack us. I don't think they will, but no one thought there would be Dementors in Little Whinging either. Just to be on the safe side."

"Alright then," said Harry with a shrug. "Let me run up and get it."

As he left, Hermione turned to Petunia Dursley, a chilly smile on her face. "If anyone rings the bell while we're out, you have no idea where Harry Potter is," said Hermione, the friendly tone of her voice belied by the expression on her face and ease with which she twirled her wand. "In fact, you've never heard his name before. Potter... sounds like the name of the boy Number Three has living with her over the summers. He comes in here every once in a while to chat with your son... is his name Harry? You thought it was Harvey... do you catch my drift?"

Petunia's lips pursed, in what seemed like annoyance. But Hermione saw the slight paling, the trembling of her hands before Petunia's arms were folded across her chest. "Is that really necessary?"

"If you want to end up like your sister that is totally up to you," Hermione snapped. "But since you're a Muggle they'll probably not be so nice. "

Petunia frowned. "They- the.. what were they called? Death..."

"Death Eaters," Hermione said quietly. "They call themselves Death Eaters."

"That awful boy was one of them, Lily said," Petunia mused quietly. "Snape." Her eyes narrowed at Hermione. "You know him."

"I do," Hermione answered calmly. "But we'll leave it at that." Harry's footsteps on the stairs could be heard again. "I'll have him back in an hour or so."

The park that Harry showed her to was old. The paint was faded and chipped on the rusty swing set, which creaked as they sat on the sagging rubber seats. There was a slide that was decrepit, painted an awful shade of yellow that had faded from years in the sun.

"I remember when they put this up," Harry mused, looking up at the ominously moaning set. "I was... five, I think. They wouldn't let me come play here."

Hermione bit her lips. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "If it makes you feel any better, my parents dragged me to the park once and I hated it so much I think I accidentally vanished my mother's purse."

Harry laughed awkwardly, making Hermione think that it was the first time in a long while. "Nice, Hermione. How did your mom take it?"

A wry smile turned up the corners of Hermione's mouth. "Mother dearest was not pleased," she said. "But my parents were reassured that being more involved in my life would upset me, so they could comfortably continue to work long hours at their practice without worrying that their daughter was withering away from lack of sunlight."

Harry was looking at her strangely, eyes dark and concerned. "I never really asked you about your parents," he said, a note of regret in his voice. "Didn't ask if they were kind or how they reacted to magic. I don't know anything, really, about you outside of Hogwarts."

"I guess that's true," Hermione admitted, running her hand through her hair, wincing when it was stopped by tangled curls halfway down. "But there isn't much to know. I haven't seen my parents in...well, in ages really. Since the summer between first and second year. And after second-year, I spent my time at the Safe House and then the Burrow and Headquarters. The last time I saw them-" Hermione hesitated, then looked up to meet Harry's eyes. "I removed their memories of me, changed their names, and sent them to Australia to start a new life there, out of harm's way."

It was obvious Harry was shocked. "How?" He stopped his rocking movements, one worn trainer dragging him to a halt in the dirt.

"I had help," Hermione hastened to add. "But I couldn't keep them here, in danger. Not after the graveyard. According to the British government, they're dead. Number 32 Victoria Street burned down, with Helen and Matthew Granger inside."

Although his black hair was already messy, Harry mussed it again, a gesture of habit. "I didn't know," he whispered. "Gods, Hermione. There's so much that you haven't told us." He was looking away from her, facing the slide.

"Not really," Hermione said, feeling a slight pang of guilt.  _ Well, apart from my being in love with your hated Potions Professor... _ "There's a lot that you guys know. The rest- it's just that I'm a bit older than I look and I have a few extra responsibilities, like doing reports for the Order, keeping track of you, and reporting to Dumbledore."

"So you're a member of the Order, then?" Harry asked. "Officially? They know about you?"

Hermione nodded. "I revealed myself and my role in your protection earlier in the year. To both the Inner and the Outer Circle. But I actually wanted to talk to you about that today."

She took a shaking breath. This- Dumbledore would probably consider this close to treason. Unfortunately, there was no way to know if someone was listening without casting a spell, and there was no way to cast a spell without alerting listeners.

"Lean in close," Hermione said under her breath. "I'm going to be speaking very quietly and a distraction is going to be happening across the street."

Harry frowned but did as she asked. With a burst of fierce concentration that made stars of migraine pain burst behind her eyes, the fire hydrant across the street exploded. Wands could be traced... but wandless magic could not.

"There is a lot that the Order isn't telling you," Hermione said quickly. "That Dumbledore isn't telling you. I know that you know this– what I want to know is if you want me to do something about it."

She pulled away brusquely and stood. "Let's go back to Number Four," she said, looking around. "It's not safe." They walked quickly, away from the fire hydrant and the pouring water. People were running outside of their houses to check on the commotion.

"What do you want to do about it?" Harry whispered harshly, looking around. "What can you do?" They were crossing the street, and Number Four was only a few houses away.

"I want to take you to the next Order meeting. I want you to stand up and demand information," Hermione said quickly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an oddly dressed figure hurrying toward them.  _ Friend or foe?  _ "Get inside, quickly!"

Harry was fumbling with the doorknob when the figure came closer, close enough for Hermione to see that while their clothes were ill-matched, the face was familiar. The door wrenched open- Hermione shoved Harry inside. "I'll be by next Thursday to get you." she said quickly. "Be ready. Know what questions you want to ask."

With that, she shut the door in his face and went to the edges of the Dursley property, where the Order member was waiting.

"Hullo," Hermione said pleasantly.

"What are you doing here?" the man snapped. "No one is supposed to be here."

Hermione smiled at him. "I know. Obliviate."

His eyes went blank, and he rocked backwards. "Walk down the street now, toward the fire hydrant that just exploded," she told him. "The noise shocked you, and you want to see what's going on. You won't remember me being here."

He nodded absentmindedly and began walking in the direction that he had just come. Hermione sighed, rubbed her forehead- which was pounding horribly- and left.

* * *

The safe house kitchen was empty when Severus walked in late that night. It normally was- Hermione typically worked in her bedroom/office and Cedric retired early. But he knew he only had to wait- and soon enough, a weary-eyed Hermione came padding into the kitchen.

She brightened when she saw him. "Hi," said Hermione. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she gave him a ridiculously wide smile.

"Hello," he replied, not moving from where he leaned against the counter. He tracked her as she moved toward him. That silly smile made him want to smile.

"How was your day?"

She was close enough now- he checked their surroundings out of habit, then picked her up and sat her on the counter to lean in and kiss her swiftly. It was easier when she was at eye level with him- easier on his neck, at least. "Better, for having seen you," he replied. Their foreheads were touching, and he could feel her breath on his face. Severus was distinctly aware of the spread of his hands on her waist, of how he could feel the dip in from her ribs and the indentation of her bones through her thin tee-shirt. Her hands were resting on his chest, one pressed right over his heart.

"You're a charmer," she told him, and he savored her words in the air. "I would never have expected it from you."

"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and moving closer to her, straightening up. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him to her. "Why not?"

Hermione tilted her head back to look at him. Her hands snaked up his chest, stroking the sides of his neck and coming up so that the tips of her fingers just brushed his cheekbones. "You're so stern," she told him. Her eyes were large and sweetly brown, telling him silently that her emotions were barely being held in check. "Your face- so harsh." Her hands moved down to his shoulders, pressing at the tight muscles of his back. "Always so tense, strong... No one would believe how kind and gentle you can be."

He crooked his mouth up in a semblance of a smile. "I don't think that kind would be the right word to describe me, Hermione."

"I disagree," she countered. Her chin was set in determination. "You might not be kind the way Harry can be kind, or Ron can be kind. But- when I was a child and I was lost and alone and scared you were kind to me. When I was in that middle ground between child and an adult you were kind. And now- Severus when you hold me I can feel how kind you are, how much lo-" she stopped herself, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Only with you," Severus said after she had pulled away. "Just with you."

She smiled brilliantly at him. "Misanthrope," she said smartly.

"Bleeding heart," he replied, kissing her forehead.

They came together to kiss again, gently at first and then harsher. He loved the feel of her body against his- she was lean and lithe and warm, and the press of her breasts against his chest was making his good sense collapse in a way that he hadn't felt since he was fifteen.

He was craving the feel of her smooth skin, the silkiness of her back interspersed with the raised texture of her scars, the fluttering gasps he would hear as his hands brushed the ticklish spots on her sides-

A noise, a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone walking downstairs, registered with the lovers at the same time- in retrospect, the speed at which they separated was almost amusing.

When Cedric entered the kitchen ( _ damn him, _ thought Severus) Hermione was still perched on the counter, watching as Severus heated milk on the stovetop.

"I thought I heard something," Cedric said, rubbing the back of his head. He slept in only boxer shorts and a thin white shirt, enough for Hermione to be able to see the ridges of his impressive chest and stomach. He stretched, hitching the shirt up farther, enough for a strip of newly tanned skin to show.

Severus noticed her glance and scowled. "It's none of your business, Diggory," he snapped. "Perhaps you should consider  _ not _ leaving your room when you hear people talking elsewhere."

Hermione shot him a reproachful glance. "We were just talking some things over, Cedric," she said. Her voice was a smidge kinder than Severus'. "Go ahead and go back to bed."

With another glance at the two of them, Cedric ambled out of the kitchen. Severu let out a long breath in relief. He wasn't sure if he liked Hermione living in this Safe House with Cedric Diggory- the sooner Grimmauld Place was safe the better.

Despite the departure of the interloper, Severus continued with the making of the hot chocolate, pouring the hot milk into mugs and stirring in the chocolate powder Hermione preferred to real chocolate. When it was ready he handed her one of the mugs.

"So what did you do with your day?" he asked conversationally, going to lean against the table to face her, still on the counter. "Reports, copying reports, and scaring Diggory?"

Hermione gave him a small smile, and took out her wand. When she had finished casting a few protective and anti-listening spells, she spoke. "I visited Harry," she told him.

Severus stood up straight, glaring.  _ Why would she do that? _ "Why?" he demanded tersely.

"Because I think it's time that he goes to an Order meeting and become part of the Order," Hermione responded smoothly. "I'm taking him to the next Order meeting and he is going to take his place as one of the leaders of the movement. He's shown what he can do in battle, he's shown that he can be trusted with some information, and anyway, that's all beside the point. He needs to know what's going on."

Severus sighed, rubbing his temples. "Dumbledore isn't going to like it," he said wearily.

"Screw Dumbledore," Hermione said promptly.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. "I would hope not," he said, teasing.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "You're awful."

"Not kind?" he asked. He was far too close to smiling than was safe, but he loved seeing her eyes this animated.

She smiled tenderly at him. "Both silly and kind and awful, you wonderful man," she told him. "Are you going to help me with bringing Harry into the Order?"

He stood up, walking over to kiss her gently on the mouth. "Of course," he said.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 34!
> 
> Fun, wasn't it? I love writing them in an actual relationship... Next chapter, however, has some more planning...
> 
> Love the comments and kudos! I love reading what you all think of the story and it is an instant mood lift in these trying times.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Lots of changes in this chapter - get ready for them!

**_Chapter 35_ **

Hermione's heart was pounding as she walked up the front steps of Number 4 Privet Drive. This- this could be dangerous. If Dumbledore didn't like it... She could remember all too well what Severus had shown her in his mind.

The second she saw Harry's face those doubts fled. Grief had taken a toll on him, but there was a new determination to his face. He, at least, was ready to take control of his own destiny.

"I'm ready," he said. "Where's the meeting?"

Hermione smiled sadly at him. "Headquarters," she replied. "Moody and I touched up the charms on the house the day before yesterday. It should be safe now." As she said it she saw his face tighten again, knowing that soon he would be in the house where every room would be haunted by thoughts of his godfather.

"You own it now, you know," she said quietly. "Sirius left everything to you in his will. Including Headquarters. So if you wanted meetings held somewhere else, we could find somewhere else, Harry."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No. It's fine. Are we going?"

"Almost," Hermione answered. She scanned him quickly. He was wearing his school robes, which were much better than his ill-fitting Muggle clothes. His hair was sticking up- Hermione knew it was futile, but she tried to pat it down anyway. Harry ducked away. "Hermione!"

"Fine, fine," she sighed. "Make sure that you're respectful. Most of these people are here to follow you and Dumbledore- they won't want to see the two of you arguing. The Headmaster will give in, but want to speak to you privately."  _ And to me. I'm going to be lucky if I'm not cursed. _

"I know," said Harry. He sounded just the slightest bit irritated to Hermione.

He didn't understand. She grabbed his chin, forcing him to look down at her. "This is important, Harry. Don't challenge him. You are his protege- under no circumstances should you humiliate him or try to usurp him. Dumbledore doesn't take kindly to it."

Harry frowned at her. "You sound like you're afraid of him, Hermione."

She kept her face still, just looking at him. "You've only seen the good side of Albus Dumbledore," she said finally. "He loves you, in his way. But he has other sides too."  _ Dark sides. Grey sides.  _ She offered her arm to him. "Let's go," she said quietly. "Oh- read this first." She held out a scrap of paper with the flowing script that Dumbledore used.

They arrived on the stoop of the house, just inside the protections. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see two men leaning against the signpost that read "Grimmauld Place."

"Let's get inside the house," Hermione murmured. "Now."

Harry knocked softly, and the door was opened by Remus. The werewolf was looking the worse for wear. His hair was showing more grey than brown and his skin was more lined than smooth. The creases around his eyes deepened as he considered Harry.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, confused. "Come in, come in. Hermione, why did you bring him?"

Hermione put a hand on Remus' arm. "It's time," she said simply. "Time for Harry to take his place in the Order."  _ I have decided, Remus. My will be done, not Dumbledore's. _

Remus frowned. "Does Dumbledore know? He was asking Severus why you were late."

Hermione gave him a brittle smile. "Yes. Let us in, Remus."

Still frowning, Remus stepped aside to allow them into the house. "Are you sure-"

"Yes," Hermione said quickly. "Thank you, Remus. Let's join the meeting."

Her heart was pounding. She could feel the beat in her throat. Reaching behind her, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand, giving it a quick squeeze. He responded, but gave her confused look when she chanced a glance over her shoulder. She tried for a reassuring smile, not quite certain if she managed.

No- she needed confidence right now. Pausing outside the door to the kitchen, Hermione stilled herself, sinking into her mind. She imagined herself how others saw her- brilliant, talented. How Severus saw her- glorious. A fighter, the lethal fey she had seen in his mind. She drew upon that strength, reminding herself how her face looked without a Glamour. Old. She could be listened to-  _ would  _ be listened to.

Hermione squared her shoulders and opened the door, dropping Harry's hand. The Inner Circle of the Order looked up at her, the surprise in their faces turning into outright shock as Harry followed her into the room.

While they were all looking at Harry, two people were looking at her: Severus and Albus Dumbledore. There was no expression on Severus' face, and a quiet fury burning behind Dumbledore's spectacles.

"I've brought Harry, as you asked, Albus," Hermione declared with false confidence. Her voice rang in the room, silencing the whispers. "To take his proper place in the Order."

She nudged Harry. "Yes, sir," Harry said, voice strong. "I'm glad we've both agreed it's time."

Severus leaned forward, looking Harry up and down. "Interesting, Albus," he drawled. "I told you he's too young, but as always, you know best." There was a hint of a mocking tone in Severus' voice. "It took him leading a suicide mission into the bowels of the Ministry, but at last, it seems you've decided Potter's mature enough to be included in our planning."

Dumbledore looked at Severus, the realization that he was in on Hermione's machinations coming to his face in a moment before fading away. He was trapped, and he knew it.

"It is time for you to be inducted, Harry," he said, voice grave. "I asked Hermione to bring you tonight for the induction ceremony- although I had thought you would have seen fit to be on time." He had a chuckle in his voice, and to all appearances was completely benign now.

It terrified Hermione, how he could go from being deathly angry to being jovial and kindly. "My apologies, Albus. We were held up by Harry's relatives."

The Headmaster nodded and gestured to the empty seat near Severus where Hermione normally sat. "No worries, my dear girl. We'll have a word about how to deal with Petunia and her ilk after the meeting. She can be difficult." His eyes met Hermione's, and for a moment they were pure ice. "Harry, please come forward."

Hermione sunk into her seat, feeling her knees go weak with fear and relief. Harry would take his place in the Order- they could keep things from him no longer. But at the same time- the prospect of the meeting ending filled her with fear.

"Who sponsors Harry James Potter to join the Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix?" asked Dumbledore, looking out into the small crowd gathered around the table.

"I do," Remus said immediately. He stood, walking to Harry's side and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Hermione took a shaky breath and stood again, walking over to Harry. "I do," she said, looking directly at Dumbledore.

They needed one more- it was evident that the entire Order would be willing to volunteer, but they seemed to be waiting to see who deserved it the most, in a sense. Who personally knew Harry, rather than just knowing of him. Mr. Weasley stood, pushing his glasses up with one thick finger. "I do," he said mildly.

"We have three sponsors, as required," said Dumbledore. "Remus Lupin, how do you vouch for Harry James Potter?"

Remus smiled down at Harry. "I've known Harry since the day he was born- Lily even let me hold him before Sirius did," he said fondly. "I was one of his father's best friends, and I was Harry's Defense Professor at Hogwarts almost three years ago. He is brave, he is kind, he is intelligent. He is caring. And he is the reason we are all here."

"Hermione Jane Granger, how do you vouch for Harry James Potter?" Dumbledore asked.

Hermione grinned up at Harry, who had only recently begun to tower over her. "He rescued me from a troll in our first year at Hogwarts," she began. "And since then we've been friends. Best friends, us and Ronald Weasley. When I was thirteen I decided that I was willing to risk my life to save him, just as he had been willing to risk his to save mine. I've guarded him, fought beside him, and argued with him; I've made him do his homework, eat his vegetables, and teased him about girls. But in the midst of all the normalcy, Harry is undeniably the only hope we have of defeating the Dark Lord. He needs to know what we are doing, how we are fighting."

Dumbledore nodded, waiting for the small crowd to quiet. Hermione was just glad her voice hadn't shaken. "And Arthur Charles Weasley, how do you vouch for Harry James Potter?"

"Harry has been Ron's best friend since their first trip on the Hogwarts Express," Arthur said quietly. Hermione had to strain to hear him. "And over the years he's dragged our son into some wild adventures, but always with a good heart. He is a leader, and he is, like Hermione said, our only chance at winning this war. He beat You-Know-Who the first time, and I think that he can do it again if we give him all of our resources. We formed the Order of the Phoenix to defeat Voldemort in the first war, and we didn't do that, Harry did. Now we need to help him do it again. I know he has a good head on his shoulders and a good heart in his chest."

"Thank you, sponsors," Dumbledore intoned. "Now. Harry James Potter, do you wish to join the Order of the Phoenix?"

"I do," Harry said, green eyes fierce in his face.

"Are you committed to the fight against the Dark Wizard who calls himself Lord Voldemort?" asked Dumbledore.

"I am," Harry replied.

"Are you willing to do anything and everything necessary to bring him down?"

Harry nodded. "I am."

"And are you willing to keep all the secrets of this organization and guard them against those who seek to aid Lord Voldemort?"

"I am," said Harry firmly.

Dumbledore smiled at him. "You have promised such thrice, under your own free will. Let your words bind you and return thrice upon you if you break your promise. Thus, you are welcomed into the Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix. Please be seated, Harry." The Order burst into applause. Several members slapped Harry on the back or shook his hand, welcoming him heartily.

The Order's public show of acceptance into their ranks made Hermione's breathing come easier. Dumbledore would see how popular the idea was, how vital it was that Harry join. If it had been put off much longer these people would have been wondering why not, and why Dumbledore was refusing to tell him anything.

A chair was pulled up for him on Hermione's left, and slightly flushed (with embarrassment or happiness, Hermione did not know) Harry dropped into his seat.

"And now to normal business," the Headmaster said genially. "I believe that Hestia was just finishing her report?"

"I was all done, Albus," Hestia Jones said happily. "That was all."

The meeting may have dragged to some, but to Hermione, the next three long-winded reports sped by until it was her turn to speak.

She stood, handing out a packet of reports to be passed around the table. When everyone had one, she spoke. "As you can see from the reports, our spies have information from every nook and cranny of our country. The general public is scared, the Aurors are scared, the Ministry is scared. Gringotts is arming itself. The number of families applying for travel visas is alarmingly high. The most concerning thing about that is that Muggleborns and their families are either being denied visas or they are never getting a response, through both Muggle and Wizarding means."

"Which means that there is someone in power in the Immigrations department who is either a Death Eater or sympathetic to the cause," Severus drawled. "Whether that sympathy is his own or the result of an Unforgivable doesn't really matter."

"Exactly," Hermione said, nodding. "And that person is Alexander Collins."

Dumbledore frowned. "He was a Ravenclaw... Prefect, but not Head Boy. He always was bitter about that, but the professors all agreed he was not the best candidate. How exactly did you come by this information, Hermione?"

Strange. He had never asked her before... "A combination of information from my sources and some digging into the Ministry records," she replied slowly. "I'm quite sure it is him."

Severus nodded. "I agree. Arthur?"

"He does seem like the type," said Arthur Weasley, tapping his fingertips on the table. "He's tried to shut down my department more than once. He just took the Department Head position."

She continued with her report, citing the rise in violence against Muggles, the rumors surrounding Dementors leaving Azkaban, and the reactions of the Pureblood circles. Everyone was listening, and several people took notes. Hermione finished by asking specific people to send their reports to her before the middle of the next week, so she could factor their information into her analysis.

As she sat down, Harry was looking up at her with something like awe. "How do you know all of that?" he whispered.

"I'm like the assistant spymaster," Hermione whispered back. "It's Severus' job to collect information from all the spies, which I sometimes help with, but it's my job to organize and analyze it all."

They turned their attention back to the meeting. There was one last report on Swedish sympathies and then it was time for the meeting to close.

Usually, the end of an Inner Circle meeting was slow as members congregated in the halls to gossip and laugh. Tonight there was much of the same, with many of the members standing at the close of the meeting but staying in the kitchen to chatter.

Hermione and Severus stayed where they were as Harry went to talk with Remus. Hermione breathed in and out slowly, wishing for ways to forestall her inevitable meeting with Dumbledore. Severus noticed- he always noticed.

"I saw some trash on the stoop," he murmured, bending so that only she would even have a chance of hearing. "If you would be so kind as to help me take it out?"

_ The men on the corner. _ "I would love to," Hermione said, a smile of relief on her face. "I can ask Remus to take Harry back to his aunt's home."

She drifted over to where Harry was talking with Remus and Cedric Diggory. "Hello, boys," she said. "Remus, could you do me a large favor and take Harry back home?"

Remus looked between Hermione and Dumbledore. "He didn't really know, did he?" the werewolf asked quietly.

Hermione gave him a bland smile. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Remus," she said cheerily. "Can you take Harry?"

"Yes, of course," Remus said, a furrow appearing in his brow. "Let me know when you get home safe, please, Hermione."

It seemed that Remus, at least, might have been somewhat aware of what Dumbledore was capable of. Hermione swallowed hard. "Nonsense. Of course I'll be checking in on you to make sure Harry is safe. Harry, I'll be preparing reports for you to read to help you catch up with Order business so far. No talking to Ron, understand? This is secret, now."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, 'course, Hermione. Will you deliver them or send them by owl?"

"Hand delivered, just for you," she said with a genuine smile. "I'll see you sometime this week." She hugged him and Remus, nodded to Cedric, and went to join Severus in the hall.

As she made her way through the crowd of people, she didn't notice Cedric bid goodnight to Remus and Harry. Just as she turned the corner, he began to follow her, making his way through the crowd.

Hermione slipped around the corner, almost bumping into the tall figure that was waiting for her. She didn't greet him with a smile- she would fake cheeriness for Harry but there was no need to do so with Severus. They were far past that point- they had been for a long time.

"Do you have your knives?" Severus asked in a soft voice. "We shouldn't need to use them, but..."

She bared her teeth. "I'm in a bad mood tonight," she said. "What are we doing with them?" Part of her felt bad for so cavalierly talking about disposing of two people, but they were Death Eaters. And now they were Death Eaters who had seen a suspicious number of people loyal to the light disappearing into... somewhere. They needed to be quieted.

"Let's give them a chance," Severus drawled. "What will they do when they see a young lady walking alone, down their way? If they do nothing, they're completely innocent."

"And if they attack, we know they're definitely Death Eaters," Hermione said, smirking. "And they provoked us, not the other way around."

"Disarm them, look at their memories, and if they are dangerous they mysteriously disappear. Politically correct is the way to be," Severus said smoothly. "And speaking of."

Dumbledore swept toward them, anger now evident in his face. "My office, now," he snapped at Hermione. "We have matters to discuss."

"After I help Severus with the spies waiting for us outside," Hermione said rapidly. "We'll take care of them and then I'll come."

Dumbledore looked at Severus for a long moment, then back at Hermione. "Very well." He swept out the door. A moment later, the couple could hear the pop of Disapparation.

Hermione and Severus looked at each other, holding the other's eyes with their own.

"You did a dangerous thing tonight, Hermione," Severus said in a low voice. There was a strain on his normally dulcet tones, a strain that told her he was worried.

She managed a weak grin. "I told you. I live for danger."

Severus shook his head. "Let's go."

He opened the door, gesturing for her to go first. She gave him a sickly sweet smile and left. The men were still there- three men. She walked toward them as if she hadn't seen them, wand feeling alive in her hands. She could feel Severus' eyes on her back, and his disguised form walking right behind her.

When the men came into her view Hermione found that she recognized one of them- he had been in the graveyard, but not the Ministry. She gave the three men a cruel smile- one gasped once he recognized her.

"It's the fucking Mudblood," one hissed.

Hermione frowned at him. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" she asked. "What are three nice lads like you doing in such a bad part of town?"

She bared her teeth and brought her wand up, casting a silent shield that sparked when the first spell hit it. "That wasn't very nice," she taunted. "If you're going to curse me, at least be more creative... or more accurate."

When they were paying attention to her, Severus Stunned two of them neatly and Hermione took care of the third herself. They bound them with ropes and levitated them into an alley.

"Do you want to do the interrogation or shall I?" Severus asked.

She grinned at him. "I'll take a crack at one of them, at least, if you don't mind. Anything I should be looking for in particular?"

* * *

Hermione jotted down the last pieces of information in the small notebook she carried with her, and rose from her crouch, stretching to ease the cricks in her back.

"That's it then," she said mournfully. "What should we do with them?" As much as she enjoyed gathering information, she didn't exactly want to kill them. But she knew it as well as she knew her own name- something had to be done with these men. They couldn't go back to their lord- and there hadn't really been a choice about approaching them in the first place. There were too many Death Eaters already; if they could get rid of a few and get information at the same time both Severus and Hermione knew that they could not pass up the opportunity.

Still. It was dirty work, work that made Hermione feel like taking a long hot shower.

Severus glanced at her. "I hope you aren't getting scruples now," he said, a hint of a warning in his voice.

Hermione sighed, wrapping her arms around herself in the slight, unnatural chill of the summer's night. "I know. I just get the feeling that we're as bad as they are if we just... murder them outright. Can't we Transfigure them into rats or something?"

"We can use an exorbitant amount of magical power to do so," Severus allowed, slight sarcasm dripping into his voice. "So they can die in a few hours or a few weeks in some kind of gruesome death at the hands of a cat or the elements. Or three drops of a tasteless painless potion can be used and their bodies Transfigured with considerably less power into something nondescript." She could hear the recrimination in his voice- he was mocking her 'tender feelings' and was quite probably hurt at the thought that she considered him 'as bad as' them.

"What would the public say if stuff like this came out after the war?" Hermione said quietly, meeting his eyes. "I'm sure that after the Dark Lord is gone they'll be happy for a week or so but then they'll start looking at people like you and me."

"What do you mean, people like you and me?" Severus snapped. She could see the vein in his neck- he was growing annoyed and quickly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "A Muggleborn who illegally used a Time-Turner and a former Death Eater. Harry will be in the clear- Ron, Luna, all the purebloods. But think of the political reaction if they found out that Harry Potter's best Muggleborn friend killed purebloods- albeit Death Eaters- in cold blood during the war? Or if they ask you on trial if you ever killed in cold blood?"

"I have killed in cold blood, Hermione," Severus said, his irritation more pronounced. His voice was more like a hiss that his normal smooth tone. "But if you would like to save your precious reputation go ahead and run to Dumbledore now. I'll take care of the trash."

Frustrated, Hermione pushed her curly hair out of her face. "That's not what I meant, Severus," she said. "I'm just saying we need to think about these things."

"You need to think about these things," countered Severus. "Have you ever considered why the Headmaster didn't throw a fuss about us doing this, even though he knew full well what we were planning? He's not exactly counting on me making it through the war- probably you too, now, because of the stunt you pulled tonight. If he did care, he would have made you come with him immediately. He's letting you do this so you can fashion yourself a lovely noose should you make it out on the other side." The words were nasty and said with plenty of vitriol. There was a burning sensation at the back of her throat and a pressure behind her eyes that told Hermione it was very likely that she might cry- she pushed those feelings back with a few deep breaths.

"Fine, then," she said, as calmly as she could. "Poison it is."

"Fine," snarled Severus. He stalked to each victim, opening their mouths and letting three drops fall into each mouth. As soon as he was done with one body, she quickly Transfigured it into a bone, letting the complicated magic calm her.

Looked at objectively, Hermione could see the situation from both angles. It didn't mean she had to like it- but it did mean that she couldn't continue being furious. She was too rational for that.

"You take them somewhere," she told Severus, the ire gone from her voice. "I've got a reaming to get to."

He noticed- of course, he noticed- that she had calmed some.

"I'll visit afterwards," he said shortly. She knew what he meant- they would talk about it later which was a kind of apology from him.

She nodded, and was about to Apparate when his hand darted out and stilled her. "Wait," he said, urgency in every line of his body. "I have something for you."

He fumbled in his potions kit, which worried Hermione. Even in times of greatest stress, his hands were always steady. Severus found what he was looking for, a small flask filled halfway with a smoky grey liquid.

"Drink this," he ordered, handing it to her. "Right before you enter his office."

She nodded, folding her hand around it. "What will it do?"

"It will make any memory charms he works on you temporary," said Severus, his eyes dark and terrible. "So you remember."

The fear that constricted her lungs was immediate and left her breathless for an agonizing moment. "Thank you."

He nodded, arms full of bones, and Apparated away.

* * *

The potion tasted of air, as if she had swallowed a mouthful of fog. It slid down her throat, heavy, leaving a metallic aftertaste in her mouth and throat.

When she reached the top of the stair, she didn't knock, and he didn't call out his normal bid to enter. Rather, Hermione waited a few steps away from the door to the Headmaster's office before he flung it open with a fury.

Hermione didn't wince. She had spent the trip up the slow-moving stairs tucking her fear and worry away into the deepest recesses of her mind, pushing them away, calming her heartbeats. There was a trick to it, listening to one's heart and telling it to quiet at the same time.

Walking into Albus Dumbledore's office felt at once strange and normal. She had done a hundred times before and yet- before there had always been a great and kind leader behind the desk, a bit odd, yes, but kind.

And now the old man behind the desk was looking at her very differently. He didn't look old and kindly- behind the glint of his spectacles were cold blue eyes, and his mouth was drawn tight in anger. As she sat down, the door slammed shut.

She was not offered a lemon drop.

"You do not understand what you have done," Dumbledore began. His words were clipped, as if it was taking a great effort to say and not to shout them.

"I made sure that the boy who you are expecting to save us all has the information he needs to make informed decisions," Hermione said calmly, looking at a point slightly to the right of Dumbledore's head to avoid looking at his terribly angry eyes. "What, exactly, is so terrible about that?"  _ I've messed up his greater plan in some way, _ she thought. At once two warring emotions rose within her- fear that she had messed everything up for everyone relying on Harry and the Order conflicting with anger at Dumbledore for keeping his cards so close to his chest.

"I had my reasons for keeping Harry in the dark!" shouted Dumbledore, standing suddenly. He was always tall and his robes made him imposing. By standing and leaning over his desk he towered over her, and like a child, she wished she could cower into her chair.

Hermione stood too, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why would you want to keep him blind? He's going to be fighting this war for us! He might die! He needs-"

"Lord Voldemort can see inside his mind!" Dumbledore snapped. "If Harry knows our secrets, then Lord Voldemort does as well!"

That wasn't right. "No," Hermione said calmly. "You saw what happened when the Dark Lord tried to get inside of Harry's mind, it hurt him too much! You said as much to Harry himself, before you sent him home. He told me- he told me all of it. How " _ either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. _ If you told him the prophecy, then you're not afraid of him getting into Harry's mind. It has to be something else. What don't you want him to know?"

"It is not your concern!" He looked truly fierce now, but Hermione knew that there was something he was hiding.

Hermione shook her head, stepping back. "No. I have to keep him alive. If there is something that could harm him, I need to know. I can't let him die, Albus, just because you want to be the only one who knows everything! I won't let him die!" Now she was shouting, but Hermione didn't care.

"He is going to die!" roared Dumbledore. "He has to die!" He was breathing hard, but the look on his face told Hermione that it wasn't information spilt in the heat of the moment, no, he had been meaning to tell her this all along.

There was a dropping sensation deep in her chest, like her heart was falling, tumbling, through the ground and into the earth.

"No," she whispered, dropping back into her chair. "He can't."

Dumbledore returned to his seat. "Have you heard of Horcruxes?"

_ A Horcrux is the darkest kind of black magic, created through the darkest of rituals... _

_ A murder in cold blood, after a ceremony using the blood of an infant and a sacrifice of great importance... _

_ The soul is severed and a portion stored inside an object- or rather, it embodies the object, infuses it, becomes a part of it. For this reason, living creatures are not used, for they have a soul of their own... _

_ The severed soul maintains a link to the whole, but exists as a whole itself, although halving a soul halves humanity at the same time... _

_ Therefore the Horcrux acts as a second soul, a chance for life after death... But without a body, the soul is anchorless and must possess another form... _

"Yes," Hermione breathed.  _ Oh god. Harry- Harry is a Horcrux. _

He could see the realization in her eyes, in the way she folded over in her chair, the way her breath was coming quickly. Now he knew he had to be caring, to be gentle. The anger flowed from him, and before she could blink he was staring at her with wisdom and sorrow.

"Godric's Hollow, two murders. Tom liked to make Horcruxes out of significant murders- and what would be more significant than obliterating a prophecy? Except it backfired and his body was separated from his soul... a portion of which went into the scar on Harry's forehead, creating a Horcrux. One of several that I think Tom Riddle has created." When she looked up at him, he seemed hopeless. "He must die before Lord Voldemort may truly be gone."

"But how?" It didn't make sense, none of it made sense. "If he has to die before the Dark Lord can die, how can he kill him?"

Dumbledore sighed, seeming to deflate before her. "I do not know, my dear girl," he said wearily. "I do not know."

_ I know _ , Hermione thought, burying her head in her hands so that he would not see her face.  _ I know. Harry sacrifices himself or dies tragically at the hands of Lord Voldemort- and then you step in and save the day, you or whomever you believe to be perfectly controllable. A protege, whom you can guide to follow in your footsteps, or the next Minister of Magic or Headmaster of Hogwarts. Either way... Harry is out of the picture and you are the hero. _

"No." She raised her head, letting her tears, her real tears, fall down her face. "No. You've had me protect him all these years, protect him so that he can  _ die _ at the right time?"

Hermione covered her face again as he talked. "My suspicions about the Horcruxes were only recently confirmed. I thought, after what had happened to poor Quirinus Quirrell that he might have made one... and then the diary that Harry destroyed with the basilisk fang. When the two of you reported to me after the graveyard about how he had gone farther than anyone had gone ever before on the path to immortality... And more recently... I think I may have located another."

_ He's known. He knew when he was asking me to protect Harry, he knew when we stumbled out of that graveyard bleeding and broken and when we went to the Ministry. _

She felt sick.

"You have to tell Harry." Hermione said, still crying. "You have to tell him. You can't keep him in the dark anymore, you can't-"

Dumbledore was shaking his head. "His mind is not safe," he said solemnly. "The Horcrux in his scar allows Voldemort to flit into his mind and leave it again, knowing what he knows. That is why I've avoided him all year."

"But when Voldemort tried to possess him it burned him," Hermione protested, her mind scrambling in every direction. "We can teach him Occlumency, I'll work with him all summer if we need to. He needs to know, though, we can't just keep it from him."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "You must not be difficult about this, Hermione Granger," he warned. She couldn't see his hands, she didn't know if he had picked up his wand. "I am making this decision in his best interests-"

"If you don't tell him I'll tell him myself," Hermione said flatly. His eyes met hers, but he didn't attempt to penetrate her mind.

_ I can stop you _ , he was telling her.

_ No, you can't, _ she was replying.

Finally, he relented. "Your dedication to the boy is admirable, my dear," he said, looking away. "Although not in his best interests-"

"You keep saying it's in his better interests but I fail to see how being dead is in anyone's best interests," Hermione said coldly. "Tell him. Tell the Order, let them look for ways around it. He doesn't have to die! We can figure something out, there has to be a spell or a ritual-"

"No." Dumbledore's voice was harsh, final. "The Order cannot know. He is their only hope. Without him, they would fall into despair. The only people who can know this are you, me, and Severus."

She saw her chance and she took it. "Tell Harry about the Horcruxes and I won't tell the Order," she said quickly. "That is the most logical thing to do. If he knows about them he can help destroy them- how many are there?"

"I think that Voldemort meant to create six, so that he would have a soul in seven pieces," Dumbledore said quietly. "One is destroyed already- the diary. We can discuss the others at a later time. There is a process to it, you see. I will need to show you-"

"And Harry," Hermione interjected.

Dumbledore was quiet for a long moment. "I will need to show you and Harry how I discovered what I know," he said at last. "But Harry cannot know until it is time. He will make the choice, after all- we will need to prepare him before we can reveal it. For him to knowingly go to his death, to make a noble sacrifice... he must be properly prepared."

He was waiting for her to nod. Woodenly, she did so. "I have plenty to think about, my dear girl. You are dismissed from now. Discuss this with no one but Severus. I'll have your word as a witch that you will not tell Harry until I give you direct permission."

"My word," Hermione said in agreement, standing to leave. She brushed the remains of the tear tracks from her face, trying to regain some composure. Dumbledore held out a hand, stopping her.

"One last thing, my dear," he said kindly, his tone of voice belaying the coldness that had returned to his face. Now his hands were above the wood of the desk, innocuously waving his wand in a gentle pattern that produced red and gold sparks. "If you ever spring something like tonight upon me ever again..." He flicked his wand up and the red and gold sparks turned black, like ashes, and fell to his desk. "You will not like the results."

Hermione understood the message.

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, and left.

It wasn't until she had returned to the safe house that Hermione realized that she hadn't seen Fawkes in the Headmaster's office.

* * *

Severus knew that something was wrong the moment he saw Hermione. Her eyes were large and dark in her face, which was pale under her developing summer tan. When their eyes met, she shook her head, lips pressed firmly together.

She had messaged him as he had waited in the Safe House for her to return, his watch heating with a slight burn.  _ Meet me at my old house. _

The ruins of the house they had set flame to were no longer really there. Hermione was waiting on the sidewalk, her hair being flung about by the slight breeze. As soon as he appeared, she started walking away, knowing that he would follow.

His legs were longer than hers, his strides wider. He caught up to her before she turned the corner, but stayed silent. There was a park in the distance which he assumed Hermione was leading him to, where the moon was shining off the metal of the swing set and the dull plastic of the slide set.

Severus was slightly surprised when she led him through the park, to the benches where parents could sit to watch their children play and farther, until she sat down on a bench that was half-hidden under the long tendrils of a willow tree. He sat at her side, patient, waiting.

"I thought it was only going to be a scolding," Hermione finally said. Her legs were drawn up, and she clutching her knees as she stared at the playground.

Severus frowned. "What did he do?"  _ Remove her from the Order? Remove her from Harry's protection? Try to Obliviate her? _

"He said the one thing that he knew would make me-" she stopped, drawing in a shuddering breath. "Have you heard of Horcruxes?"

Even the name held an awful kind of dark magic, the kind that whispered in the mind of an experienced Dark Arts practitioner and told him  _ yes this is your kind of magic the darkest the most secret research try this was made just for you _ . "Yes," Severus said shortly.  _ What one earth is this about? _

"Tom Riddle's diary, in our second year," Hermione said, her voice soft. "Remember, we talked about it. How strange, that an enchanted object could hold so much of a person. How it could try to suck the soul out of a girl. How it could take corporeal form, how it could wield magic. We didn't look into it enough, Severus, but Dumbledore did."

Realization didn't crash into Severus, it slotted neatly into place as several facts and hours of speculation finished a puzzle that had been bothering him for more than a decade. "The Dark Lord made a Horcrux."

"He made more than one," responded Hermione hollowly."Dumbledore thinks that he created several."

Severus nodded slowly, thinking it through. "Probably a magical number- three or seven. Everyone else has only ever created one, I'd think that he'd want to outdo them."

"Horcruxes are made with murder," Hermione said, turning so that she was looking at him. "The Killing Curse that was supposed to kill Harry rebounded somehow and turned on the Dark Lord and somehow a piece of his soul ended up in  _ Harry Potter's fucking forehead!" _ She buried her head in her arms, trying to hide her tears from him.

_ That's why he went from a handsome man to the snake-like creature he is now. _

_ That's why he tortured Lucius over the diary. _

_ That's how he possessed Quirrell. _

_ That's why Potter can see what he's doing. _

_ That's how he possessed Potter. _

_ It all makes sense. _

But under the triumph of knowledge, Severus could feel the slow build of anger.

"How long has he suspected?" he asked woodenly.

Hermione's shoulders were shaking, and he heard a muffled "Years," from her.

"And he's had us protect him, to keep him 'safe' until..." he let his voice trail off.

"Until he dies," said Hermione, raising her head to look directly at him. Tears were falling down her face, and her eyes were red and puffy. "Like a pig to slaughter." She laughed bitterly. "Everything he's done- look at it all! He didn't train Harry like he decided to train me because Harry has to be able to die- or go docilely to his death! He went to the Dursleys, to those awful people, and Dumbledore didn't do a fucking thing when his room was the cupboard under the stairs and they would starve him for days, because he needed a boy hero who was selfless... it's all making sense, Severus, everything is making sense."

He reached over, taking her by the waist and pulling her toward him. Hermione turned her head to his shoulder, muffling her sobs in his robes. Severus just held, her, turning over the new information in his mind.

Years ago he had promised to protect the boy as atonement for Lily's death, the death he had caused. The boy was the only one who could defeat the Dark Lord, but above that, he was Lily's son. Lily, whom he had terribly wronged. By protecting her son he could make up for some of his sins, he could, perhaps, turn to the light again.

But no. Lily's son might not even live to see adulthood, if it was true that he harbored a piece of the Dark Lord's soul inside his scar.

They sat in the silence of the park. Insects darted around them, crickets chirped, and the swings made a creaking noise as the wind pushed the rusty chains as the woman he loved fell apart in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 35.
> 
> As you can see, we are diverging from canon a bit! I am very excited to hear all of your thoughts as to where this is all going... Kudos and comments much appreciated!


	36. Chapter 36

_**Chapter 36** _

The next night Severus was unsurprised when he received a message on his watch telling him to meet Hermione in her office as soon as he would be able to manage. He had been expecting it, really, knowing that his Hermione would never be able to sit and be weepy for long.

He was correct. After he had bypassed a reading Diggory and climbed the stairs to her room, he found a Hermione that was a world away from the one he had held the night before as she had sobbed. This Hermione had pulled all of her unruly hair into a tight bun and was reading a large tome and taking notes at the same time.

She hardly noticed as he left himself in, closing and warding the door behind him. He found a place for himself on an armchair that was stacked with parchment and books. He levitated them over to her bed and sat, waiting for her to look up and notice him.

As he waited, he watched.

Her neck, so often hidden by her hair, was long and lightly freckled. The shirt she was wearing wasn't tight, but he could see the wings of her shoulder blades and knew that if he trailed his fingers down her spine he would be able to feel the bumps. There was a frailty to her face in the low light, given by generous lips and long lashes, despite the nose that was a shade too long.

But Severus also knew that she could be deadly, that she was strong and fierce and ruthless when the occasion called for it. That her arms had muscles, that her legs were fast, that with a twitch of her fingers she could set him on fire or blast him away. There was a danger to her that could make whatever prettiness her face held melt away into something that scared the small part of him that wasn't fascinated.

Finally, she looked up at him, and gave him a small smile. "Hey." She made a gesture as if to move the hair away from her face, unused to having it up. Ink had been on her hand; now it smeared on her face.

"Hello," he replied, returning the smile. "How are you?"

Her eyes flashed at him. "Determined," she said firmly. "I'm going to figure out a way, Severus. I have to."

It wasn't surprising that she wanted to help, no, what surprised Severus was that she seemed entirely confident that she would succeed. "What do you need?" he asked simply, folding his arms over his chest as he thought.

"I don't know yet," Hermione said, frowning down at her books. "The Dark Arts section of the Library here is rubbish and I need to do more research. Any books you have on Horcruxes, any books on Horcruxes at all. Where I can find books on them? I’ll look in the Restricted Section, in Knockturn Alley- anywhere."

Severus was quiet for a long moment. "I have one, maybe two books that mention Horcruxes in any way, Hermione. It's a taboo subject, even in the Dark Arts world."

Hermione's face was resolute. "It doesn't matter," she said firmly, tears starting to build in her eyes again. "I can't lose him, Severus!" It was there in her face, in the way her voice cracked in the words. Hermione Granger loved Harry Potter, loved him fiercely and protectively, loved him enough that she cried even thinking about his death. His strong Hermione, crying over Potter.

"You don't understand what it is to 'research' the Dark Arts," Severus snapped. "They change you, Hermione. Change you in ways you could never have dreamed off. You start off just thinking that you're researching, you think you'll just read and never practice and you might even look for a way to foil the Dark Arts. And then, after researching a bit it isn't enough anymore. No, then you need to know exactly how it works, you test out one little spell. One chant. Draw one rune. And then it grows, it snowballs, and you've never had a chance in the first place. The Dark Arts become a part of you, Hermione, a part that never goes away. The amount of power they offer is- tempting and terrifying at the same time."

"I don't care," Hermione insisted, although she sounded defeated. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and pressed, a sign that he knew was from too much reading in poor light. "We need to figure out something, Severus. We just can't let him die. Because if he dies-" she drew in a sharp breath. "If for some reason he can't defeat the Dark Lord then we have no hope at ever living normally. If I can't even say three goddamn little words to you because he could see them then-"

 _If she told me she loved me it would be burned on my brain forever,_ Severus thought. _There would be no way for me to hide it._

Instead of saying that, of reminding her, Severus just stood and crossed the space to her chair. He offered her a hand which she took, despite the question in her eyes. Silently, he led her to the bed, moving all the papers and books off of it with another wave of his hand.

"Sit," he told her, watching as she did so even as he removed his overcoat and robes, then sat himself to remove his boots.

He lay down, beckoning her. "Come here," he said, when she did move. Slowly she did so, curling into his side. He sighed with the warmth of her, still a tad strange after all this time. Even so, it felt natural, as if there was no other person who would ever fit by his side in such a way.

Hermione's head settled on his chest, her ear pressed to the sound of his heartbeat. They stayed silent, breathing together as he just held her. Slowly, ever so slowly, her body relaxed into his. Severus just stayed still, except for the hand that was stroking her hair, which he had loosed from its bun. It was a curious combination of soft and rough. The curls were riotous, each wanting to go their own way after their confinement.

After at least ten minutes of silence, Hermione spoke. "That feels lovely," she said drowsily. "I'll fall asleep if you keep doing that."

"Is there any reason for you not to fall asleep?" Severus asked, keeping his voice to a low rumble.

He could feel the smile in her voice. "No, not really," she murmured, arching against him as his nails brushed her scalp. "Ohh. That's so nice."

Severus chuckled lightly. "Then sleep," he said. "Worrying isn't going to do you any good. Tonight you sleep and tomorrow morning we go shopping for books."

It didn't take her long to fall asleep, using him as a bony pillow. Her breaths were quiet, although as the night deepened she made small whuffling sounds. What was more amusing to him (although he decided around one in the morning that her whuffling was decidedly adorable) was the way she kept a stranglehold on him, clutching him with a good deal of her strength.

These days it was hard for Severus to fall asleep, to give his mind and body over to unconsciousness. It was always hard away from the protections of Hogwarts' walls- his own home in Spinner's End was as defenseless as a shack compared to the castle, with its centuries of wards and protections. In the last twenty years, six assassins had attempted to kill him in his own home.

At the Safe House though, with a dangerous witch in his arms, it would be safe to sleep, he reasoned. If for some reason the Safe House was attacked, they would be awake in an instant.

Nevertheless, Severus eased his wand arm free and carefully enchanted and warded the area around the bed, connecting his wards to those of the House. Safety precautions in place, he lay back, twitching his fingers to pull the blankets over his and Hermione's bodies.

Listening to her soft whuffling, he fell asleep with Hermione in his arms.

* * *

Hermione enjoyed waking up slowly, huddled into the small warmth of her bed. This morning the warmth was everywhere, but especially at her back. It only took her a moment to place the arm thrown over her body, pressed flush to her belly and the hand cupping one of her breasts- it was Severus, of course it was Severus. His smoky herb smell was all around her, and it was his lanky legs intertwined with hers and his breath that was slow and hot in her hair.

Beyond just the warmth, there was the feeling of safety, of being cherished, of being loved. Hermione was discovering that she loved waking up with another person's (Severus') limbs tangled in her own, that she loved being held by this man.

Strangely enough, she had woken before him. She didn't mind- she knew that if he had woken first, his hands would be in much safer positions... and she liked the faintly possessive grip he had on her. As innocent as it seemed to fall asleep together, clothes still on and no kisses exchanged, there was something decidedly arousing about that hand, warm on her breast, and the hardness she could feel behind her.

She couldn't help but daydream, wonder about what it would be like to wake up like this as lovers. To feel the sparse hairs on his chest against her back, the callused palm of his hand on her breasts, flesh against flesh rather than cloth over cloth.

Hermione knew the moment he woke. The quiet, even breathing hitched for a moment as he froze before realizing where he was. Then came the silent evaluation of his parts- hands included.

When he tried moving, she made a soft noise of protest. "Don't," she said drowsily.

A soft kiss was pressed to the top of her head. "I should," he answered, voice rough with sleep. He was moving his hips away from her, trying to hide his morning wood.

With a sigh she let him, rolling into the warm depression in the bed as he stood. He moved awkwardly to the door, opening it and peering out quickly before exiting and closing the door behind him. Hermione just yawned and stretched, feeling the familiar warning twinges from her old wounds.

I wonder if he's coming back, she thought languidly. I wonder if he's going to kiss me.

She frowned at the thought, then reached for her wand. One quick mouth cleaning spell later, she relaxed back into the bed. It was only a few more moments before her Potions Master reentered the room, yawning as he pushed his hair back from his face.

"Come back to bed," Hermione suggested, moving over to make room for him. "It's barely morning."

Severus gave her a long, considering look before he assented, joining her under the heavy covers again. She sighed happily, twining around him, stretching up to kiss him. She had him flat on his back and was lying half across him, kissing him without lengthening her neck for once.

It was chaste for a kiss, but he responded happily enough. Hermione pulled away after a moment though- the roughness of his chin rasped hers painfully.

"Ow," she told him, rubbing her tender skin. "I used to think about that but I don't think I quite understood how much it hurts."

Severus scowled at her. "I was busy kissing you," he told her.

"You're scratchy," Hermione said, kissing the arch of his nose instead of his mouth. "Sorry."

In one swift move she was shifted as he rolled over her, flipping them over with a tight grace. He kissed her carefully, just barely touching her lips with his, their tongues barely touching, until she was arching under him, trying to get closer. He chuckled softly, moving so that he could press open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone...

He was finding her collarbone especially delectable, but left it soon enough to move to the other one, then up her neck again. Severus was possessed by the idea of leaving a mark- a small one, barely visible if her hair was down... His decision was made for him when her hands rose to his head, keeping him in place. He sucked, hard, until she gasped under him and her body jerked. He laved the spot with his tongue, then moved on.

His route took him to her mouth again, where he kissed her lightly before pulling away. "I'll see you in two hours," he said, pressing one last kiss to her forehead.

Hermione sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, a refusal to let him go. "Why?"

"Because I need to go home, change... and shave," he said, a glimmer in his eye. "If you would release my person?"

She scrunched her nose at him, then arched up to take his lips in hers, kissing him with a small shield cast over her chin. "There," she murmured, unwinding her arms and lying back on the pillows. "Two hours."

* * *

Knockturn Alley was a foul, suspicious place in the dark of the night, but merely a shady one by day. The streets were cobbled, like those in Diagon Alley, but the people inhabiting the streets of Knockturn Alley were far different.

As Severus Snape and a disguised Hermione Granger entered, they were met with busy, albeit quiet, streets. One house, with red painted shutters, had three flower sellers lounging on the stoop, not doing much to hawk their wares. A few hags were exiting the bar, and some witches and wizards stood in shadows, talking or selling from booths. None approached the Potions Master, nor his companion.

Hermione wore long, flowing robes, black like Severus' and with long sleeves despite the summer sun. Her height had been changed with a few simple spells, so that she stood at Severus' chin instead of at his chest, and her hair had been pulled into a strict bun. She had lightened her skin and darkened her hair, made her chin more pointed and her nose shorter and pointier. Her eyes she changed from brown to a pale grey-green. As Hermione Granger, she was unrecognizable.

They had decided that it was necessary that Severus remain recognizable. The proprietors of Knockturn Alley would sell to strangers, it was a necessity. But they would not sell their best supplies nor show their private collections to those without known reputations. Severus was a frequent visitor to Knockturn Alley, and it was well known in certain circles that he was a Death Eater.

Over the course of the morning, the pair would visit several shops, potions related and otherwise, break for lunch, and finish their shopping in the afternoon. For all appearances, it would be a couple out shopping, and even those who knew Severus would not question his companion.

The pop of their Apparition was quiet, and Severus and Hermione did not say a word as they entered the Alley. They communicated nonetheless- an offered and accepted arm, a tilt of the head to ask if the other was comfortable.

As they walked they made a series of small clicks, the sound of their boot heels making contact with the ground. Hermione felt distinctly uncomfortable, having only been in the alley with a dark cloak that hid her face. Even if her face wasn't her own, it was still unnerving knowing that people could, and were, looking at it and trying to identify her.

At least Severus was there and warm at her side, his arm firm and steady under hers.

The first stop was Dystyl Phaelanges, a small shop that sold various animal... and human bones. Severus released her to look at a display, and strode up to the counter.

"I need half a pound of ground calcaneus and four whole scaphoids, preferably from a female witch," he snapped at the man behind the counter. "Quickly."

Hermione scanned the books on the dusty bookshelves, eyes narrowed. Voldemort had used bone in his resurrection ritual... and while there were a few books on the uses of bones, she didn't see any that talked about resurrection. Until... there. The Necromancer's Guide to Souls: Giving them Life and Form.

She plucked it from the shelf, and added it to the packets that the man behind the counter was ringing up for Severus. Severus lifted an eyebrow at her choice, then sneered at the man. "That too. How much?"

The man mumbled something and gold exchanged hands. Hermione added their purchases to the small purse she carried with her.

"Think that'll have what we need?" murmured Severus as they left the shop.

Hermione shrugged. "I won't know until I've read it," she said honestly. "Where next?"

"Cobb and Webb's," Severus said shortly, keeping his voice down as they passed a gaggle of witches. "They are a Dark Arts supplier disguised as an antique store."

The interior of the shop was dusty and seemingly deserted. It was larger on the inside, separated into mock rooms with old furniture. A bell rang as they entered, but no one appeared.

Still arm in arm, Hermione and Severus wandered the rooms, waiting. There was a ghostly bedroom made of a large four-poster bed with dusty pale pink curtains, and an armoire and vanity. Hermione drifted toward the vanity, which was made of a green and black marble. The mirror was covered with a thin sheet, barely hanging on one corner.

"I wouldn't look in there if I were you," a creaky voice said from behind them. Hermione let her hand fall- she hadn't even realized she was reaching out to pull the sheet away.

They turned to look at the man, who was small and used a knobby cane. His hair was white and long around the edges, circling his bald spot like a crown. "Why?" Hermione asked him, tilting her head to take him in better.

He gave a little smile. "It'll tell you the absolute truth about your looks and try to steal your soul if you don't have the will for it. At least three vain women are trapped inside and they all want to get out."

Hermione nodded slowly. "I've read about it. Mirrors are excellent for holding souls."

The man raised bushy eyebrows. "Ahh? So the lady's taken an interest in soul work?"

Hermione smiled prettily at him, leaning on Severus. "It's a bit of a hobby of mine, actually."

Severus scowled down at her. "You've only ever read about it," he snapped at her.

"It's not for lack of trying, dear, it's for lack of equipment," Hermione quipped. "Nothing I can help."

Severus turned dark eyes on the old man, raising a brow of his own. "Anything new, Master Cobb?"

"Master Webb has brought some new books and some... ingredients that might interest you, Master Snape," Cobb said with an acquiescent nod of his head. "But I feel I have some materials that might interest your lady friend."

Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes. "Please?"

Severus' scowl deepened. "Books only. We still have Potage's and The Coffin House to stop at. If you find an interesting ritual then we can return."

There was a glimmer in his eye that told her nicely played and she responded with a pout that said I do my best "Fine," Hermione said, with a little sigh. "Master Cobb, I'd love to see what books you have on souls."

"Right this way, my dear," Master Cobb said, leading the way to the back. "Master Webb!" he called. "Master Snape is here, and would be interested in some of the ingredients you brought back from Australia."

A long thin man unfolded himself from behind a desk near the far back. He was exceedingly pale, with large eyes that didn't seem to blink. He seemed too tall for the room, even as hunched down as he was. Master Webb had large spidery hands, with thin white fingers that spread in welcome.

"Severus Snape," he said in a high voice. "What a delight. Follow me." He disappeared in the back with a kind of scurrying walk that made Hermione very uncomfortable.

Master Cobb looked up at her. "And this way, Mistress," he said, bowing and gesturing at a doorway. "The library is through here."

Indeed, the next room was set up like a library, with a variety of antique chairs and desks and tables surrounded by towering bookshelves with intricate carvings. Hermione looked around in awe, giving a happy little sigh.

"This is lovely," she said happily. "Where do I start?" She drew her wand with an absentminded air, and tapped her lips with it, a habit that Severus had warned her several times would end with her lip-less. "I know. Imperious."

Master Cobb fought the curse for a moment, but Hermione bore her will down on him. "There, there," she murmured. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want some help finding what I'm looking for. Please pull out all your books that might even mention Horcruxes."

With jerky movements the man walked along the shelves, pulling out the books Hermione's curse compelled him to. She ended with three on the table in front of her.

"Excellent," she said happily, scanning the titles. "I haven't seen these before. Now, tell me, Master Cobb. Do you keep an inventory?" When he shook his head, she smiled. "And if I just take these books, how will anyone know they are missing?"

There was hate in his mind as he answered. "I keep track of all the books. And there is an alarm system."

Hermione smiled thinly. "Good. Remove the alarm charm from these books." As he set to work with his wand, she browsed the shelves, selecting four more books to add to the pile. They were on a variety of subjects, to throw anyone who wondered off her trail.

"Those, too," she said, nodding toward the books. "Now, please." When he finished, she shrunk the books and stashed them in her purse.

"Obliviate," Hermione whispered, forcing her will on him. "Forget everything that has happened since we entered the library. And these books ever belonging to you."

She released the spell, stepping back. "This is lovely," she said, beaming at him. Master Cobb shook his head, blinking fast. "Where do we start?"

Master Cobb frowned at her. "Sorry, my dear. I got distracted. Now, what sort of books were you looking for?"

"I like soul magic, but I'm also interested in horticulture," Hermione said, giving him wide, innocent eyes. "Show me what you have!"

* * *

When Severus and Hermione returned to Safe House Three, purchases stowed carefully in Hermione's bag, the house was empty. Cedric was nowhere to be seen, rather, a note had been left on the counter saying that he would be at the Weasley's until half-past six.

"Finally it's quiet," Hermione said, smiling at Severus. It was quite a strange smile, as her face was in the midst of returning to normal. She let out a sigh of relief, shaking out her curls when they returned to normal. "That's better."

"Wait," Severus commanded, stepping closer to her. He flung a hand at the door, slamming it shut. "Stay that tall."

Hermione frowned but did as he asked. "Why?"

He smirked at her. "Because it'll make it easier for me to kiss you, my dear know-it-all."

In truth, it was lovely being able to press herself against him and barely strain to reach his mouth. At this height his hands rested easily on her hips, pulling her closer rather than trying to lift her up.

When they parted, she smiled up at him. "It's your own fault you're so damn tall," she told him, caressing his cheek lightly.

"It's only a problem when we're standing," Severus whispered in her ear, his breath hot. "If, perhaps, we were-"

A door slammed in the house, and they broke apart. There was the creak of floorboards, the sounds of footsteps. Someone was in the safe house. Hermione sighed, giving Severus a wistful look as she took her wand out and shrunk herself back down to her normal height.

"I'm going to put what we got in my room and start going through it," Hermione said, her tone brisk over the slight regret in her voice. "You are meeting with the Dark Lord tonight, is that right?"

Severus nodded once. "It's a social gathering, not a revel. I'll give my report tomorrow morning, unless something urgent comes up, which I'm not expecting."

She looked around, and not thinking that Cedric would come into the kitchen stretched up to give him a soft, quick kiss, barely more than a brush of lips. "Be safe," she whispered.

* * *

After ploughing through two and a half books on soul magic, Hermione felt slimy. Gross and slimy. And despite immersing herself in gross sliminess, she still hadn't learned anything useful.

 _Still,_ she mused. _I don't have all the information on the Dark Lord and how he created all of these Horcruxes, like Dumbledore promised he'd share._

The Headmaster's owl had found her at breakfast that morning, bearing a note that asked her to bring herself and Harry to his office at nine o'clock two days hence. The agreement was followed by a request that she present herself the day before, presumably for a strict talking to and perhaps even a vow of silence. She wouldn't put it past the old geezer- but to be fair, it would be what she would do too.

With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair, leaning back and lifting her hair off her neck. There were a series of ominous pops from her back and neck, and the slight pain that had slowly become her new normal. A bath was in order, Hermione decided. She would leave the disgusting books on her desk and sink into a hot bath. The bathroom was not the door across from hers but one down, close enough that Hermione judged a robe enough cover.

The hair that was heavy on her neck was pulled up into a high bun, wound and wound until all the weight was concentrated at one point. It pulled her head back, lifting her chin. Hermione was reminded of all her lessons with Andromeda Tonks, of how the woman's hooded eyes and thin pointed chin lifted like a queen's.

 _I killed her sister,_ Hermione thought sadly. _I wonder if she hates me now. If... if she still loved Bellatrix and if a part of her hates me for killing her sister._

As she stepped into the hall, Hermione didn't notice the strip of light under the bathroom door. When she tried the doorknob it wouldn't turn; only then she realized that the door was locked and someone was using the bathroom.

"Just a minute," a rough male voice called, Cedric's voice. "Hold on- I'm done."

Hermione stepped away from the door, feeling annoyance rise inside her skin, prickly and irritating. "Sorry," she snapped. "Take your time."

There was the mechanical click of the lock, and the door swung open. Cedric was there, his hair still dripping and his robe only loosely belted around his waist, revealing a damp and firmly muscled chest. "Sorry," he said again, giving her a grin. "Go ahead."

Warily, Hermione nodded. "No problem," she muttered. "It might be easier to go in if you weren't still in the doorway."

"Oh," Cedric said, coughing embarrassingly. "Yeah, sorry." He stepped aside, then stopped right as she was about to move past him. "Wait- you have something on your neck- right-"

Hermione violently pulled away from the hand that had been reaching out to her neck, her own hand flying up to cover the mark Severus had left. "I know," she snapped. "If I could go into the bathroom now?"

He tilted his head, confused, before realizing. "Oh," he said, eyes widening. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, of course you know. Um. Yeah. Goodnight. Sorry again."

Blushing furiously, Hermione shut the door to the bathroom, glaring at her reflection in the considerately de-steamed mirror. When she moved her hand away from her neck she saw the spot and groaned. Severus had left a mark of considerable size on her skin. He had chosen well- if her hair had been down it would never have been seen.

But it had been seen, and by Cedric Diggory of all people. She scowled at her reflection then turned to the tub, flicking her wand at it with a forceful cleaning charm. To turn on the taps she actually had to approach it, turn them by hand. Tonight she wanted much more hot water than cold- she needed to get the slimy feeling out of her mind and the best way was to clean the body.

The motions to take a bath were familiar- anchor her hair with charms, remove her robe, her clothing, check the bathwater... but tonight after she stopped the water she didn't step right in. Instead, she drifted the mirror again, staring her reflection in the eye.

 _Mirrors can capture souls,_ she thought. _Can I use Legilimency on myself? What would be the purpose of that?_

She moved her gaze from her own eyes to her body, looking at her own naked flesh. She had clear pale skin, with the faintest hints of her old tan. Her lips were pale, her nose too long. There were a scattering of freckles on her face, and her chin was raised unnaturally high from the weight of her hair on the back of her head.

Her neck was only marred by Severus' mark, and her chest by collarbones like small ridges. Her shoulders were slim, her arms long and goosebumped from the chill of her own nakedness. Round breasts, topped with dark nipples peaked with cold, were high and proud on her chest. Despite continuous exercise, Hermione's stomach wasn't quite flat, but she was still slim, with hips that were exaggerated by the dip of her waist.

It was a lie, though, her reflection.

Hermione closed her eyes, giving into darkness as she passed a hand over herself. "Finite Incantum," she murmured. She felt the ripple of magic as it peeled off her skin, but she kept her eyes closed anyway.

Only once, after she had been discharged from the Hospital Wing, had she looked at her scar. It was only brief- one glance, and then she had closed her eyes and performed the Glamour. Then it had been angry red and almost pulsing, the puckered skin angry and harsh.

Slowly, breathing in the air that was heavy with moisture and the smell of rose hips, Hermione opened her eyes. She blinked thrice before concentrating on her torso.

There it was, the scar from Dolohov's curse. It curved from just under her left shoulder to slant between her breasts and across her stomach to curve around her right hip like a possessive lover. It wasn't as bad as it had been, due to a ten potion regime, but it was still gruesome to her eyes.

It was white along the center and red on the edges, as thin as a wisp on the ends and as thick as her thumb on her chest. Hermione swallowed at the sight, tears burning at the back of her throat.

It's just a scar and one I can hide reasonably well, she told herself firmly. Still, she raised a hand to touch it, running her hand from one end of her waist to the other, feeling the change in texture from smooth to the bump of the scar. Hermione had to swallow hard again. He won't mind. He has his own scars.

She twisted in the mirror to look at her lower back, then winced again. It was a mess of scar tissue from the curse, a mess that she didn't want to look at again.

 _I'm being vain_ , Hermione thought bitterly. _I'm acting like a teenaged girl horrified she has spots._

_You are a teenaged girl._

_But I'm being overdramatic._

_But you're scarred for life._

_I was protecting Harry. I should be proud of these scars._

_Bull._

_I know._

With a flick of her wand, Hermione covered the mirror with a conjured sheet, and turned her back to it to walk to her bath. She sunk into the hot water with a sigh, letting her body relax in the warmth. Her lower back tensed, flared with brief pain, then relaxed.

I'm just being silly. The only reason I'm concerned with my appearance is that I'm concerned with what Severus thinks of my appearance which is doubly silly because I doubt he could care less if I grew horns and a forked tongue.

Her thoughts turned more firmly to Severus, weaving a thread of worry in her chest as they always did when he was at a meeting with the Dark Lord. Any meeting could be his last. Any meeting the Dark Lord could delve into his mind and discover his illicit relationship with a teenaged Muggleborn girl. He could see the Order Meetings when reports were handed out with more information than anyone was supposed to know about the inner workings of the Dark Lord's own Inner Circle of Death Eaters. He could see Severus reporting to Hermione, or Hermione kissing Severus, or a thousand other things that would spell Severus' death.

And Hermione wouldn't even know it until his body was found, broken and bloody, on the steps of Number 12 or Severus' own home in Spinner's End or even at the gates of Hogwarts, if the Dark Lord decided to return his body at all.

He could give Severus to the werewolves, if it was a full moon, or make him into an Inferi. Or feed him to Nagini. There a number of ways the Dark Lord could ensure that Hermione would never see her spy whole again. Every time they kissed could be their last.

These thoughts haunted her daily. They made her wonder what she would do if he asked. If he made plans to go to the Dark Lord with his betrayal, if he chose to sacrifice himself, would she let him?

If he asked her to be with him completely, would she say yes?

Just thinking about sex with Severus made her feel the same heady, heavy feeling in her loins that she felt when Severus kissed her, or palmed her breast. Her body wanted it, certainly, which meant that she wanted it too, to a point.

On the same hand, she was hesitant. They were supposed to be moving slowly, hell, they weren't even supposed to be moving at all. Sex would be a distraction.

It would bring them closer together, if possible, and it would make things more complicated.

But if he asked? If he asked it of her, what would she say?

 _He would never ask me_ , Hermione thought, half her mouth stretching into something like a grin. _I'll probably have to suggest it, talk him around, and then wait for him to get over himself long enough for us to actually have sex. And then he would never be able to get enough._

_I love him, though. I think that if he asked, I'd say yes._

_But I'd rather he not ask. I'd rather it just be something between us that grows naturally._

_And until then..._

And until then, she'd be content with what they had. The kisses they shared, the progress they were making in their own relationship. Her spy was a cautious and wary man, and every kiss she stole from him was a little victory.

 _I might want to wait until he actually is able to tell me he loves me to have sex with him,_ Hermione thought wryly. _I'm well enough aware that sex and love are two different things but I'd like them to be quite identical for us._

With that, she sunk deeper into the water, creating a small cushion of air so that her neck wouldn't have to rest on the hard rim of the tub. Severus would come with the sun and everything would be alright. Here, with the bubbles in the tub covering her skin, everything would be alright.

With that thought repeating hypnotically in her head, Hermione sank into a light doze, only fully waking when the temperature of the water became uncomfortably cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 36. 
> 
> Thank you for reading everyone! It's been a rough few weeks, especially in the US - it is lovely to escape into the world of fanfic for a bit, and I thank you all for joining me. Comments and kudos are lovely - thank you everyone! I look forward to seeing what everyone thinks!
> 
> Until Saturday!


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! What a week? JKR can bugger right off and leave us to recreate her world in a more just way. 
> 
> Not as many comments last chapter - you all seem to prefer action. Here is another plot filled chapter...

**_Chapter 37_ **

Malfoy Manor was a haze of darkness as Severus Apparated to the front gate. There were dark smudges that in the light of day would have been majestic shrub spirals or hedge formations. The dark grounds were dotted with specks of white, Malfoy's famous albino peacocks.

Severus was one of the few who knew that at least two of them were charmed white, not born white. He wondered who was being paid to keep up the charms- Lucius certainly wouldn't do it himself, and he couldn't see Narcissa doing anything related to work. A house-elf, perhaps?

He shoved it from his mind. Severus was firmly in his Death Eater's mindset. Here, he had only two goals: to please his master and to play the political game of Death Eaters.

A low ranking Death Eater opened the door for Severus, bowing hurriedly when he recognized the Potions Master. Severus didn't even spare a cold glare, sweeping past the man and into the Manor.

His boots clicked on the spotless marble floors, stunningly veined with silver and black. It was beautiful, as was everything in the Malfoy residence. Narcissa had impeccable taste- perhaps not in men, but certainly in furnishings.

There were the light rumbling sounds of a gathering of people coming from the ballroom. Severus made his way there unassisted, although there were people stationed at doorways to guide those unfamiliar with the Manor.

He entered the ballroom, surprised to see it lit and decorated. Narcissa swept toward him, resplendent in a silver gown. Her hair was up in an elaborate knot, and her jewellery had a subdued shine. When she smiled at him, he could read fear in the tightness of her mouth and the worry in her eyes. "Severus," she said, her voice warm in greeting. Severus barely heard the tremble of fear in her voice. "Thank you for coming."

"I wouldn't miss a gathering of yours for the world, Narcissa," he said smoothly, pressing a dry kiss to the back of her hand. "My formal sympathies for the death of your sister."

Narcissa's smile went brittle. "Thank you, Severus," she said. "Now. Tonight's a big night. The Dark Lord asked me to send you to him as soon as you arrived. You remember the way to Lucius' office?"

"Of course. I shan't keep you from your party any longer," Severus said, scanning the room. The pureblood elite who were sympathetic to the Dark Lord were there, dressed in their finery. Those who were less worthy but more devout were in attendance as well, in less fine clothing. The Inner Circle was present, save those recently murdered or in Azkaban.

He stalked through the crowd importantly, his scowl clearing him a path through the ballroom. He was taller than everyone there, more menacing. They might be purebloods, but they were the soft kind of rich that sunk like soufflés at the slightest noise. He was in the between world, with a mother from one of the old families and father who was the worst kind of Muggle, a half-blood with fearsome skills and magic and the Dark Lord's ear.

The Dark Lord was waiting for Severus in Lucius' extravagance of an office. It was really just a meeting place for Lucius, a room with a desk he could use to intimidate or impress those he talked to. The furnishings were manly and elaborate, screaming expense. The braziers that heated the room smelled of sandalwood and myrrh, adding even the scent of wealth to the room.

"Severusss," the Dark Lord sighed, his mouth stretching in a slash of a smile. "Welcome."

He was garbed in flowing black robes that attempted to hide the unnatural gauntness of his body. The luxurious, thick brown hair had long fallen out, the healthy complexion faded to white. His eyes were narrow, red, with slit pupils. The Dark Lord was less than human- or in his opinion, more than human.

Severus went swiftly to the Dark Lord's chair, kneeling with his head bowed. "My lord."

"Sso... respectful, Severusss," he hissed. "Rise, my loyal servant. Sit. Young Draco and I have something to discuss with you."

Severus took a seat at the Dark Lord's right hand, studying the boy in front of both of them carefully. His godson was elegant in a perfectly tailored black suit made to be worn under robes. Severus knew very well why the robes were nowhere in sight- the Dark Lord was making their positions very clear, him in Wizard's robes and Malfoy in a Muggle suit. Draco's pale hair was slicked back sharply from his forehead, revealing his widow's peak. He was drawn and pale, less capable of hiding his fear than his mother.

Severus gave him a short nod. "Draco."

"Uncle Severus," Draco responded stiffly, returning the nod.

Lord Voldemort smiled again, his mouth stretching unnaturally. "You will stand for Lucius in the ceremony tonight, Severus. You are the boy's godfather, and as his father was stupid enough to get caught... well."

Draco's mouth tightened at the mention of his father. Severus sighed. "If my lord commands," he drawled. "What ceremony are you performing that requires a father figure?"

"Young Draco will be taking his mark tonight," announced the Dark Lord. "I have generously decided that despite his father's incompetence, I will allow the son to attempt to redeem the family name. He will be the first of his generation to take the mark, and I want the new generation to be welcomed into the brotherhood by their fathers... or in Draco's case, his godfather."

It was news to Draco that he was taking the mark- the boy took a shaky breath, then slid out of his chair to kneel at the Dark Lord's feet. "Thank you, my lord," he said, his voice cracking. He coughed. "I will do your will."

A spidery hand came down to stroke the top of Draco's hair, as one might pet an affectionate lapdog. "Rise Draco. I will tell you your task when you return to me, as after you take the mark your brothers will take you away." The hand came down to grasp Draco's chin, wrenching his head up so that he was forced to make eye contact with the Dark Lord.

They were frozen in that position for a moment as the Dark Lord rifled through Draco's thoughts. After a moment, Voldemort closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Yesss," he hissed. "It will be perfect."

"What will his task be?" asked Severus, tilting his head in what seemed like dull curiosity. "Will he require assistance?"

The Dark Lord let out a cold laugh. "It will be simple enough," he said flippantly. "Draco, you will please me or meet my great displeasure."

Draco nodded, then rose. "When shall the ceremony start?" he asked. His voice was artificially calm, something both the Dark Lord and Severus noticed. It pleased the Dark Lord, whose smile spread wider.

"It's almost midnight," Voldemort said. "Severus, ensure that you have everything you will need for after the ceremony."

Severus glanced at the clock- it read close to half-past eleven. "Yes, my lord," he said, rising swiftly. "Draco, come with me." When the boy looked like he would protest, Severus glared.

"If you will excuse me, my lord?" asked Draco. When the Dark Lord nodded, he gave a quick bow and followed Severus out of the room.

Once the door had shut and they were well into the hallway, Draco rounded on Severus. "What the hell was that?"

"I need to prepare you," snapped Severus. "Unless you want to die embarrassingly of pain."

Draco looked at him wide-eyed. "What going on, Uncle Severus?" His hands were shaking, and the line of his hair was darkening with sweat. "I don't know what's going on!"

Severus stopped him, grabbing his shoulders harshly. The boy was thin- the bones in his shoulder were sharp against his hands, reminding him absurdly of Hermione behind his mental shields. "Shut up," he hissed at Draco. "Don't say another word until I tell you to." He waited for Draco to nod before letting him go.

He found a bedroom, one of the many rooms in the Malfoy Manor. "Do you know your family's Floo password?" he asked Draco tersely. With a swish of his wand, the fireplace burst into flame.

"Yeah, it's 'Sanguinem'" Draco said hesitantly. "What-"

"Say your password, 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,' Prince," Severus snapped. "Go!" The Malfoy password would allow him through the family wards, into Hogwarts, and Prince would send him to Severus' rooms.

The Malfoy heir looked between Severus and the roaring fire, then grabbed a handful of Floo powder. The flames roared green as he threw the powder in, and stepped into the stone fireplace after it. "Sanguinem, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Prince!" he shouted. With a flash of magic, he disappeared. As soon as the flames burned normally, Severus followed.

Draco was looking around Severus' private rooms, a small frown on his face. "What is going on?" he demanded again. "Did you know that tonight I would be getting the Mark?"

"What do you think of getting the Dark Mark, Draco?" asked Severus, crossing his arms.

"It is the greatest honor," Draco snapped, crossing his own arms.

Severus waited, lifting an eyebrow. "You can lie to the only person who can help you, or you can tell the truth," he said calmly.

His godson flushed. "I'm not lying."

Methodically, Severus shrugged out of his robes and unbuttoned his left cuff, rolling up the sleeve until the writhing Dark Mark was visible. The skull and snake were stark black against his pale flesh, looking up at the boy malignantly. "Do you know what goes into getting this Mark, Draco?"

Draco's eyes were fixed on the Mark- at Severus' question he looked up at Severus, but his eyes were pulled back down. "Uh- no. My father's never said anything."

"That's because it is not something that we like to speak of," Severus said, rolling his sleeve back down. "There is a ritual that you will take part in, tonight. You will go to the Dark Lord and kneel at his feet. You will pledge your allegiance to him."

"Is it like an Unbreakable Vow?" asked Draco.

Severus shook his head. "No. You break it at your own risk. The next part of the ceremony, he will ask you to prove your loyalty. He likes to make a farce of choice. You will kill the tribute, then complete the ritual that will bond your soul to his, your power to his. Then he will press his mark into your skin. If you survive the pain, your 'brothers' will take you away and test your mettle. And when they are satisfied, I will take you away and heal you."

"If-if I  _ survive? _ " Draco asked. "No- my father wouldn't allow this-"

"Your father barely survived it himself," Severus snapped. "And he can't ‘allow’ anything from Azkaban. This is to punish him."

"No," Draco said again, shaking his head and stepping away from Severus. "No. He's the Dark Lord's favorite, he would never-"

"The Dark Lord's favorite was Bellatrix Lestrange, and your father got her killed," Severus said coldly. "If you die tonight, the Dark Lord takes your father's only heir away from him. If you survive, he gives you an impossible task that when you fail, it humiliates your family and if you succeed, gives him a good reason to welcome you back into the fold while completing one of his goals. It's all political, Draco. With your father disgraced, you have no protection. It's you, and your allies, against the world. Or it would be... if you had allies."

Draco blanched. "Help me," he said immediately. "Uncle Severus-"

"I offered help," said Severus, not letting a hint of emotion show on his face. "Now the only thing I am going to do for you, is give you a potion that might take some of the pain away."

"Not all of it?" Draco was starting to breathe fast. "Why-"

"Because you need to be lucid enough to kill the tribute," called Severus over his shoulder, as he rummaged through his potions cabinet. "If you don't kill it, then you are killed and someone else takes the Mark in your place. I'm sure Mr. Zabini would like the honor. He could kill."

"I can kill!" Draco snapped. "What's the tribute?"

Severus turned, glaring at Draco. "You need to ask? It'll be a Muggle or a Muggleborn. Maybe even one of your classmates. If you're lucky, you won't know the person."

"Did you?" asked Draco. Severus could see the boy in the reflection of the glass- he looked worried, rightfully so.

"Yes," said Severus shortly. "She had been a year below me at Hogwarts."

Draco turned away. One hand went to smooth his hair, a nervous reaction he had had since childhood. "Could you do it?"

"I am alive, am I not?" The reply was sarcastic. "I did the spell so fast I didn't realize I had known her until after she was dead." It was true. He had cast the spell, fear pulling his wand and the lure of the Dark Arts and of power angry in his heart.

He found the vial he was looking for- it hadn't been brewed for this purpose but he had discovered during the first war that it worked well for Dark Mark recipients. Many had tried to curry his favor and get this potion to use for their rites; Severus had found it a useful way to gather secrets and gain control over future Death Eaters.

For the use of his potion, he had demanded their secrets. Severus found he couldn't do that to Draco. Not the first baby he had held against his chest, red and helpless and squalling. The baby he had seen grow to a demanding toddler and a precocious child and an impertinent young wizard. He was a brat, a spoiled little pureblood brat, but there was affection in his heart for Draco Malfoy nonetheless.

He turned back to Draco, handing him the vial. "Drink this," he said. "I'll give you one more chance. What do you think of taking the Mark?"

Draco hesitated, then bowed his head. "I'm scared," he said quietly. "Help me."

Severus carefully put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I will do what I can," he said. "I will try."

Even as he said the words, they felt empty in his mouth.

* * *

The empty halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry echoed the tap of Hermione's boots as she made her way to the Headmaster's office. She had taken to wearing a style similar to Severus', low heeled black boots. She normally liked the way they made an ominous sound as she walked, but here, in this empty castle, it didn't feel right. With a thought and a wave of her hand, she silenced them.

The sunlight was shining in from the large arched windows, dappling the stone floor with liquid gold. It echoed a happiness Hermione couldn't feel.

Severus still hadn't returned.

She had received a message from him on their watches,  _ Safe. Long meeting, will not return today. _ So there really was no reason to worry... unless he had been coerced into sending the message. Or if something happened between the time he sent the message and then.

The two gargoyles were guarding the tower, as they always did. As she walked up to them, she realized that Dumbledore hadn't told her the password.

_ Great. He's either getting too forgetful to run the Order or he's doing this to deliberately humiliate me, _ thought Hermione angrily.  _ Do I just wait here? _

She removed the charm on her boots and stalked up to the guards. "Open," she commanded.

One tilted its head with a grinding sound, staring at her with empty stone eyes. "You are not the Headmaster."

"The Headmaster wants to see me," she said. "I ask you again, open."

The other gargoyle did the same as the first, tilting its head first at her, then at the other guard. "She smells of the phoenix," it said in a raspy voice, like rocks crushed into gravel. "Enter."

They sprang apart, revealing the staircase. Hermione frowned at them, then entered as she was bid. "Thank you," she murmured as she passed. When they shut again, the staircase began to move.

Up and up she went, looking at the familiar paintings that surrounded the tower walls. She could have sworn that one jumped at her presence and raced off, up into different portraits on its quest to reach Dumbledore and alert him to her presence.

The sleepy-looking portrait that hung by the door to the office looked up at her in surprise. "Oh. You're early."

Hermione gave it a cold smile. "I'm really not," she said. "It's half past noon, and I was supposed to arrive at half past noon."

It sniffed at her. "If you say so," it said.

"Enter," called Dumbledore's voice from inside the office.

The office was much like she had remembered it, except the number of instruments Harry had destroyed were up and functioning again, huffing and spinning prettily. On Dumbledore's desk was a large bowl, carved with strange runes and filled with a recognizable glowing liquid. Fawkes was perched on his stand, one wing over his head.

"He's sleeping, I'm afraid," Dumbledore began, but he fell silent when Fawkes lowered his wing. He cooed at Hermione, who drifted closer, turning her back to the Headmaster.

The bird was calling her, bringing her in the soft music coming from his beak. Tentatively, she reached out a hand, stroking the soft red-gold feathers from the top of his head to his glossy back. "Hullo," she whispered. "I think I have you to thank for saving my life."

Fawkes chirped at her, looking into her eyes with his gold ones.  _ Hello, Hermione Granger. _

Her eyes opened wide in surprise.  _ I didn't know he could do that. _

_ I can. I accept your thanks, and request that you keep safer in the future.  _ There was a faintly reproving look in the bird's eye, one that left Hermione feeling slightly chastened.

_ I don't think Harry's ever mentioned talking to you before, _ she said wryly.  _ I didn't know this was going to happen. _

Fawkes let out a sound quite like a laugh.  _ And not knowing something makes you distinctly uncomfortable. That's twice now I've helped save your life. And Potter's too. When I call on you, Hermione Granger, I will expect you to help me. _

_ Of course, _ Hermione answered.  _ I'm getting the feeling that you calling on me will not be the same as Dumbledore calling on me. _

_ It will not, _ said Fawkes.  _ I am my own creature. I stay with Albus because we've known each other a good while. His machinations amuse me, and I think it better to keep track of them from inside his office. _

_ Wise. I thought phoenixes were supposed to be great beacons of goodness? Of purity? _

_ Typical human exaggeration. Take care, Hermione Granger. _

She had been stroking him the entire time, she realized. His body was abnormally hot, like it was burning with a kind of internal fire. He would be getting close to moulting day, Hermione figured. Small sparks had leapt from his feathers, making small burn marks on her hand.

Fawkes blinked once at her, then returned his wing to its position over his head. She could almost feel his return to slumber. His presence in her mind had been a blaze of heat, strong and masculine. Hermione swallowed roughly, her throat uncomfortably dry. It was true- once the bird had carried her to safety and another time he had cried for her.

When she turned to face Dumbledore once more, his eyes were narrowed, but he had not yet lost his good cheer. "Fawkes doesn't speak to just anyone."

Hermione looked down, then back up to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "He just warned me to keep safe. I don't think he'll save me a third time." She tried to laugh, but it died in her throat. Hermione settled for a wane smile instead.

"Sit down, my dear girl," said Dumbledore, gesturing at the seat in front of him. "We have a lot to talk about." He steepled his hands, peering at her over the top of his half-moon glasses.

The chair was comfortable, a fluffy armchair that was far more welcoming than the chairs in Severus' office. Still, Hermione couldn't help but wish she was meeting with Severus in the small dungeon office rather than with Dumbledore in this spacious tower one. Hermione folded her legs nearly, perched on the edge of the chair. "I think we do have plenty to talk about," she agreed in a pleasant tone.

"The key to understanding Lord Voldemort is understanding where he came from," said Dumbledore, his voice's intonation lecture-like. "He didn't become a monster overnight. It was a long process, one which culminated with the creation of Horcruxes."

Slowly she nodded. "That makes sense," she said quietly. "The key to defeating him lies in understanding what makes him powerful. Know your enemy; to understand is to know and to know is to conquer."

Dumbledore frowned at her. "You think like a warrior."

"I was made into a warrior," Hermione replied evenly. She met his eyes when she said it. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

There was a silence that threatened to turn frosty. Dumbledore sighed, and his face seemed to sink into itself, becoming old rather than wise in the space of two heartbeats. "If I could apologize I would," he said finally. "But you've become more valuable than I could have ever imagined. If I had to do it again, I would have taken Severus' advice and started training you in your first year."

"You were watching us even then?" asked Hermione, leaning farther forward. This was a subject of endless curiosity to her, and something Severus had yet so far refused to talk much about. "How did you decide?"

"Curious as to your own origins, my dear?" Dumbledore inquired mildly. "Do you wish to know yourself?"

"Perhaps." Hermione tilted her head, looking at him. "Why me?"

The Pensieve cast a blue light on the old wizard's face, illuminating it from below. "Your performance in our test," he replied finally, after a long moment. "The quest for the Stone. Surely by now you must have realized that it was too... perfect? A challenge to suit each of your talents? A test of memory, of athleticism, of strategy, of bravery, and of wit? I had each teacher submit a design, a challenge, to form the perfect scenario..."

There was a sick dropping feeling in the pit of Hermione's stomach. "And you wanted to see... what?"

"The strengths and weaknesses of your team," said Dumbledore. There was a calculating manner in the way he was watching her carefully, assessing her response to that information. "I had planned for Mr. Weasley to be Harry's friend from the beginning, but I wasn't sure who the third piece would be. I tried for Neville Longbottom, but instead, you came to the forefront. Luckily for us, since Mr. Longbottom has proven much less apt than his parents. You were the unknown quantity, Hermione. One hundred and twelve percent on a Charms test that no first year has ever scored higher than an eighty-four on... The audacity to hex a teacher and the loyalty to do it for a friend... We wanted to quantify you. The Stone was in our protection, and I wanted to test Harry and his friends with it because I knew it would be the only chance to test and observe in a controlled setting."

The bitter taste was rising in her throat, but Hermione kept it from her face. "All of this, just to test us?"

"I had been planning it for years," Dumbledore said, an almost fond touch to his voice. "I hadn't expected Quirrell but he was an added bonus- real danger, a real threat to the stone. I knew it would be Harry and Ronald, but who the third would be- or even if a third would be found, or a fourth- no, I had to test it."

Hermione took in a slow breath. "And that decided it?"

"More or less," said Dumbledore flippantly. "Does that satisfy your curiosity, my dear?"

Half her mouth curved up in a bitter half-smile. "I suppose it must for now," she said, letting regret linger in her voice.

Dumbledore let out a chuckle."You can always ask Severus, if he will answer your questions. And I have a feeling he answers very many of your questions."

He was waiting for an answer of some sort, Hermione knew.  _ What would be suspicious? What wouldn't be? _ "He's a man who is closed off from everyone else," she said finally. "It would take a lot of questioning."

"That is true." There was a sadness to his face as he spoke the words. "Severus Snape has had a hard life and some of that fault lies with me. He has closed himself off to prevent pain, and no longer knows the good from the bad."

_ I doubt that, _ Hermione thought angrily. _ Not that you've caused him pain, but that he can no longer tell what to let in. He let me in.  _ "He's brave," she said, holding back her anger. "He puts himself in such danger every day, just to give us information. I'd trust him with my life."

Dumbledore frowned at her. "You hold him in high regard, for a man who willingly joined the Death Eaters."

"It is not the actions of a man half his life ago that define him in the present," Hermione said carefully. "Yes, he joined the Death Eaters as a young wizard. And now... now he works tirelessly for the Order, to defeat the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. It is those actions, the ones he does now, that define him for me."

For a moment she was on the focused end of intense scrutiny from the headmaster. "You don't flinch when I say Lord Voldemort," he said after a moment. "And yet instead of calling Tom Riddle 'Lord Voldemort' you call him the Dark Lord. You have no fear of the first name, you do not react the way most do. And yet, you refuse to say it, and instead call him by an honorific, the name his own Death Eaters use... why is that, Miss Granger?"

Fear and doubt, cold and icy, wound around her heart, slinking around and settling in a death grip. "I've never thought about it," she said finally, cursing the small tremble in her voice. "I... I suppose it's because no one else says 'Lord Voldemort' and if you do say it people jump. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and You-Know-Who just sound ridiculous."

"It just occurred to me that Severus Snape only ever calls Lord Voldemort 'the Dark Lord' as well," said Dumbledore in a dangerously soft voice. On the outside, it sounded calm, almost wondering, but there was a sinister thread that Hermione didn't fully know if it was fully present or just her imagination. Somehow, not being definitely sure made it worse.

"He is a Death Eater." Hermione responded quietly. "When they speak his name it hurts them. It makes sense for them not to say it."

"Of course," said the Headmaster. "Of course. But in truth Lord Voldemort's name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, and he was born to Merope Gaunt in an orphanage in London."

Briefly shaken by the sudden change in subject, Hermione wound her hair around her hand, a motion that helped her think. "Okay..."

"I am going to share all this information with Harry in time," said Dumbledore reassuringly. "But I want to share it with you first. We will go into my memories together, and then we can talk about them. Feel free to bring anything up here and now. But when we are with Harry, you will allow me to guide the discussion and there are certain things you will not mention."

Hermione bit her lip. "Why?"  _ If you say 'because I say so' I will personally depose you. _

"Because his understanding needs to be guided," said Dumbledore sternly. "I am doing you a great service, letting you sit in on these sessions. I had originally planned for them to be just between Harry and me."

"If I let you move at your own pace what should take a day at most would take a year," Hermione said shortly. "When were you going to tell Harry he was a Horcrux? Or were you planning to be dead and cold in the ground before that happened?"

Dumbledore bristled. "It is not your place to question-"

"Then whose place is it?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow in an imitation of Severus. "If I don't question you, who will? Tell me, so I can give them a few suggestions."

From here it could go either way; the headmaster could laugh and brush it off or he could turn on her in rage. To her relief she had calculated correctly, he sighed and gave a low chuckle. "What I sometimes read as the insolence of youth is occasionally clear-sightedness," he said wearily. "Question-away, Hermione. Then we will get to the memories I wish to show you."

"Really?" Hermione said, not believing her ears. "Can I question you about anything?"

Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "This should be amusing," he offered. "Anything your heart desires, my dear."

Thousands of questions raced through her brain all at once. She could almost forgive his earlier pigheadedness in return for this opportunity. "Why did you leave Harry with the Dursleys? Even when they beat him and put him in a closet? Why does the prophecy even matter? Why is Remus the only werewolf who attended Hogwarts and used the Shrieking Shack? How do you expect Harry to defeat the- to defeat Voldemort?"

Dumbledore held up his hands under the onslaught. "One at a time! The simple answer of why Harry must return to the unfortunate home of Petunia Dursley is because Petunia and her son are his blood relatives. There are wards I have placed around the house and between Harry and his relatives that must be charged. Those wards hold the strength of his mother's sacrifice, keeping it fresh. As you have seen, it pains the Dark Lord to touch him-"

"But no longer," Hermione interrupted. "After he took Harry's blood he could touch Harry with no problem. What else do the wards do?"

"They are highly complex," he started, but Hermione had already seen the weakness. She had seen this kinds of wards before, had read them in a book at Spinners End her first time in Severus' house...

_ Blood wards are linked as they are named: through living blood. They are strengthened with contact between blood relatives. When sacrificial wards are used, the living blood members must be directly related to the sacrifice. The sacrifice can be any member of the blood family, usually an elder close to death, although some Darker families use a babe born specifically for the purpose of being a blood sacrifice. This used to be the fate of Squibs who were not swapped as changelings, or the deformed who could not be fixed with magic. If the head of the house had an illegitimate child, that babe can also be used as the sacrifice on which the wards are based. Ancestral family homes are often protected with the blood of many such children. The problem therein lies in that the mother of the babe is also under the protection, and her blood can be used to pass the protection on to others, as was the case in the massacre of 134 when the Faminc's blood wards were broken when a whore's blood was used to create simulacrums who could breach the wards. Additionally, once the Wizarding bloodlines of a place grew too intertwined, the wards did no good for each Pureblood house had a dozen other houses that were intimate blood relations... _

"No." Hermione said flatly. "They serve no purpose against Voldemort anymore, and the wards would only be loosely based around Harry anyway. It was his mother's sacrifice that kept the protection on his body strong. Him being at the Dursleys would only reinforce wards at the house."

"Nothing does get by you, my dear," the headmaster muttered. "Would you deny that the Dursleys need protection? Harry's presence keeps them safe, and gives him a safe place for the summer."

"We have Safe Houses for a reason," Hermione protested. "And they don't deserve the protection Harry gives them."

His eyes were ice cold. "The Dursley's took him in as an orphan and kept him alive until he could come to Hogwarts."

"Barely," Hermione countered. "Did you see where his first Hogwarts letter was addressed? 'The Cupboard Under the Stairs,' Albus. What did you think that was? His play place? It was his bedroom and where he was kept when he was being denied food for days at a time. Some of his first accidental magic was  _ unlocking _ his  _ cupboard _ door so he could sneak out and get food. Which he was beaten for when it was found missing. Nothing could justify continuing giving those awful people protection." She could feel the tears pressing at the back of her eyes, and cursed her own damn sentimentality for appearing at inopportune times.

It appeared that the headmaster had heard the crack in her voice. He bowed his own head as his own emotions came over him. "He needed to be safe," he said in a soft voice. "But it was also an environment that was better than what the Wizarding World had to offer. Would you have rather he had ended up spoiled, a brat? Or if Lucius Malfoy had manipulated the Ministry so that a Dark family who wanted revenge for their leader would have taken him in?"

"But do you know what an environment like that  _ does _ to a child?" Hermione asked, leaning so far forward that she was nearly falling off the seat. "I don't know how Harry is so loving after being denied so much love! You can still see it on him though, that abuse- he has no concept of his self-worth, he feels like he needs to take care of everybody while at the same time he doesn't trust authority. He-" Hermione's voice abruptly cut off.  _ He is the perfect sacrificial lamb. _

"The needs of the many over the needs of one," Dumbledore's voice said, chillingly soft. "He was never in any real harm. He was being watched all his life."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, taking all the information in and processing it as quickly as she could. "Next one. The prophecy. Why does it matter?"

"Because Tom Riddle decided it mattered," Dumbledore replied evenly. "He decided it mattered when he went after Harry, and so it came into being."

Hermione was about to ask her question when her watch burned frighteningly hot on her wrist. She hissed in pain, checking it quickly to dissipate the heat. The spider's web that represented Spinner's End was bright and glowing hot.

_ Need help. Healing. Bring potions. _

She stood, nearly knocking back the chair. "I need to go," she told Dumbledore. Her voice fluttered, and fear was rising in her stomach. "Sorry. I'll try to come back later but I need to go  _ now. _ "

The headmaster also stood, furrows of concern on his face. "What is the matter?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, only half-honest. "I'll send a report. I need to go!" She skirted the chair, going to the door, then turning and going to the Floo. "Can I use it?"

Perhaps he had seen the desperation in her eyes or perhaps he was concerned as well. He swept his hand at the Floo in a gesture that clearly told her to go ahead.

Hermione grabbed a small handful of green powder from the ceramic bowl over the fireplace, then threw it in the flames.

"Prince," she said in a low, clear voice. As the flames roared emerald around her, the Headmaster's office disappeared and the taste of hot ash appeared in her mouth.

* * *

The blond aristocrat didn't belong in the simplicity of Spinner's End, even as broken and bloody as he was. The fancy party clothes were rent and stained, the fair hair messed and darkened with sweat and blood. It made an awkward contrast with the fabric of Severus' couch, which was an old and musty shade of green.

There was a sharp rapping at the door, coming from a height that told him it was Hermione. There was a frantic hurry to the sounds, her worry manifesting in her knocks. Severus was saved from having to drag his aching body to the door when she promptly unlocked it and entered the house unbidden.

Hermione's hair was flying everywhere and her eyes were wide with panic. They searched the room, looking for Severus, finding him with a gasp of horror.

It took only a moment for her to scan the scene, to see Severus slumped against the sofa with blood covering his white shirt, to see her classmate prone on that sofa slowly bleeding onto his godfather.

"What happened?" she whispered, approaching them. "What do you need me to do?"

"Heal him," croaked Severus. "I've exhausted myself, trying to do too much at once." Speaking made his stomach roll nauseously. He closed his eyes, letting his head rest on the old and faded cushions. He was content to rest there, but a pair of slight but strong arms heaved him into a nearby armchair.

"Didn't you hear me, girl?" he snapped. "I said help him-"

"And I can't help him with you in the way," Hermione said just as sharply. "Are you hurt?"

Severus glared up at her balefully. "Draco needs help now. I'm stable."

The look she gave him told Severus he would be paying for it all later- he knew that Hermione didn't like being spoken to like she was an idiot and she also didn't like leaving him in pain. But she needed to tend to Draco first. Draco was the one staining his couch red with his lifeblood to create a gory contrast of red and green, Christmas colors in the worst parody of joy Severus had ever seen. It was soon obscured from his sight by Hermione's form kneeling by Draco and blocking his view, and his own traitorous eyelids falling shut.

He could hear her quiet voice casting healing spells, Draco's breathing growing easier, and the harsh sounds of his own breathing, mixing in the room. He had no wounds of his own, just magical exhaustion. As soon as the other Death Eaters had finished with Draco, he had Apparated the boy to his own house and worked on him for hours, pushing as much magic as he could into the boy to keep him alive.

Severus supposed he couldn't call Draco a boy anymore.

Rest was easing his own weariness. He struggled to open his eyes once more, succeeding. The brief moment of triumph vanished when he futilely tried to stand and fell back into the chair. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor made Hermione whirl around.

"What happened to you?" she said, her voice low and concerned. "Sit down, Severus." She rushed over, her wand moving in complicated patterns as she checked him over. "Hush, Malfoy is doing fine. He's stable for now, I just need to manually clean some of his wounds. Severus, you are magically drained. Dangerously so, what if someone had come for you here?"

Her voice was tight with worry, with concern. It didn't stop his glare. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," Hermione said. Severus was quite vividly reminded of Madam Pomfrey saying the same thing on more than one occasion. "Here."

She grabbed his hand, pulling it to the pearl that rested on her skin. As soon as his fingertips brushed it he could feel the reserve of magic in the tiny stone, the magic that had been slowly gathered from her body when she wasn't using it. He called it to him, feeling the brief resistance. It felt strange to have Hermione's magic mixing with his, but in a good way. It remembered him, remembered the way he had stood in her mind and held it gently with his hands. It was friendly in an odd way, telling him quite plainly it was Hermione's magic but Hermione liked him well enough and they were compatible so it would work with him until his was back.

Severus let his hand drop when he had taken enough, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. "Better," he acknowledged with a grunt. "Thanks."

There was the faint scent of perfume and blood as Hermione leaned over and placed a quick kiss on his forehead. "You're welcome." She moved away again, but not before the scent of rose hips and iron had fused in his mind.

Still, he didn't have enough strength to move, only enough to lean forward and watch what she was doing. Hermione's swift fingers were unbuttoning the long row of buttons on Draco's mangled dress shirt, a sight that made him uncomfortable. What would he do when she was unbuttoning his own shirt, would she (or he) remember this night? As Draco's bruised chest came into sight, Severus pushed all thoughts of jealousy away.

When Hermione saw Draco's new, pulsing Dark Mark she rocked back on her heels, one hand stopping right over her mouth. He could see that she wanted to press it to her lips to stifle a gasp of some kind, but it was bloody and that would be unsanitary.

"The Dark Lord is punishing Lucius," Severus said quietly, and began to explain to her in a low voice. He ended with the news of a task the Dark Lord expected Draco to perform. "As soon as Draco is lucid we will return to his side," Severus said wearily. "Which is why I called you. I couldn't heal him fast enough by myself."

Hermione nodded, then set back to work, her mouth in a thin line. As she rubbed antiseptic into cuts, Draco would let out small moans and whimper, his unseeing eyes flying open.

"Hush, hush," Hermione murmured soothingly. "It's alright now. Don't worry." It was a quiet litany of comfort, one that Severus himself had heard more than once. Her endless caring was in the soft words, the hand that gently brushed hair from a high forehead, the warm brown eyes that were filled with compassion.

_ This boy had tormented her for years, _ Severus thought, in a curious state betwixt bemused and awed.  _ Called her slurs, spread vicious rumors about her in school and in the papers. She punched him in the face. And yet, when he needs and I ask, she cleans his wounds and speaks to him as kindly as if she was his own mother. Kinder than Narcissa would, probably. _

"What are we going to do if he remembers me being here?" Hermione asked quietly. "Will you Obliviate him?"

"I don't think Draco wants to be a Death Eater," Severus said after a moment. "I think that he might be willing to go to Dumbledore, to take our side in all of this."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Maybe, but I don't want him giving you up because he's scared."

"He won't remember any of this," Severus reassured her. "The pain is too great right now. If he does remember it, he'll think it's a dream. Why would you be here healing him?"

Hermione rose, going over to Severus. "Right. I've done everything I can for him. Do you want me to stay?"

As much as he wanted to say yes, Severus knew that 'no' was the right answer. "It would not be wise," he said regretfully. "Off with you."

The gentle caress of her fingertips stroking the top of his hand was as intimate as a kiss. "It might be best to come directly to Safe House Three," Hermione said quietly. "I'll pop into Dumbledore's office and let him know all is well, then go back to the Safe House."

"Don't tell him about Draco until I'm there," Severus ordered. "He will be given a task as soon as he awakens. There is no use in speculating until we have all the information. I'll also not know how receptive Draco will be to possibly turning until I hear the task."

"Do you think he really would?" Hermione asked, her voice hushed. "Severus, he's been brainwashed with this stuff from birth. Why would he want to bring down a regime that places him in a possession of power?"

Severus glared at her, some real heat behind his gaze. "Because he knows what we do is reprehensible," he spat. "The killing, the torture- Draco isn't one of the ones who enjoys it. He's been a spoiled and pampered brat his whole life, raised to expect the world at his feet. Now he knows that the world he's been told is waiting for him isn't there and he's expected to be a henchman to a megalomaniac. His world had been turned on his head."

There was a moment when both were quiet. "Okay, then." The silence broken, Hermione nodded and used her wand to siphon blood off of her hands. "I'm off to shower then back to Hogwarts to make a quick report. Call me if you need me."

* * *

Draco wavered, Severus' iron grip on his upper arm the only thing keeping him upright. At least, until Severus released it, letting Draco crumple into a heap at the Dark Lord's feet in a semblance of a supplication.

"So you survived," hissed the Dark Lord. "Excellent. You really are perfectly placed to carry out what I expect of you."

The rattling sound of Draco's breath was loud in the office, empty but for the two Death Eaters and their Lord. "Anything, my lord," Draco wheezed.

"This task should please you, Draco Malfoy," said Lord Voldemort, his red and slitted eyes malevolent. "Avenge your aunt. Kill the Mudblood Hermione Granger, and redeem the name of Black and Malfoy. Kill her, and take your place at my side."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 37. 
> 
> And so we diverge from canon once again... What do you all think of the twist? Comments and kudos much appreciated!


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Apologies for the late update - I'm in the middle of a cross country move and /thought/ I would be together enough the morning of (because yes I decided to move on a Wednesday in the middle of the month) to update that morning - long story short, everything that could have possibly went sideways went at least a little sideways. 
> 
> But here is the chapter! Apologies - I didn't proof read as carefully as I normally do (although it was beta'd by Sorasrardust!)

Chapter 38

Something was wrong, something tangible that Hermione could almost feel. Someone was coming through the wards on the Safe House, someone impatient and in a hurry. What was confusing was that the person felt like Severus, but a Severus drenched in fear. She had never felt him this way, and it concerned her.

_ It's probably Draco, _ she thought, not noticing the throb of pain in her lip from her teeth.  _ He's scared for him. I never knew that he cared about Draco so much. _ There was a wistfulness to the thought, that awkward envy of her classmate.

There was a slight knock at her door, and Hermione rose to answer it, mentally steeling herself. This was the time to be professional, to not let emotion get in the way of taking Severus' report and analyzing Death Eater movements and plans and the Dark Lord.

"Come in-" Hermione began to say, opening the door, but her words were immediately cut off by Severus' mouth slanting over hers roughly. The door slammed and she was up against it in a moment, her hair barely cushioning the force of his body pushing against hers.  _ Well, I guess this just means to fuck professionalism,  _ Hermione thought hazily.

The knobs of her spine flared with pain from the impact as they struck the door, pinned by Severus against her, pressing her down. Her legs were wrapped around his thin waist, her anchor in the storm of his kiss. There was no room to breathe, only the feel of calloused hands around her waist, pushing under her shirt, cupping the back of her neck. Severus was rough, demanding, his hips sharp against hers.

It was surprising, not unwelcome, Hermione decided, curling her fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck. It was hard to ignore that the smell of blood still lingered, barely covered by the shower soap he had used, or that she suspected he would be shaking if he wasn't pressing her so hard into the door.

Just when she thought she would have to pull away to breathe, his mouth moved off of hers, sucking and kissing her jaw, the line of her neck, behind her ear. The feeling of blood being pulled to the top of her skin stung, a pain that echoed possession and want, a method of marking that was primal and agonizing and sharp. There was nothing gentle about his hungry mouth, just consuming desire- or the desire to consume.

His hands though- his hands at least were gentler. The hand that had slid up the smooth softness of her belly to her ribs was behind her back now, and the hand that had been holding her hair had tilted her head back so her neck was exposed, so that Severus could drag his mouth from her neck to her collarbone unimpeded. "Severus- what-" she tried to say, but then her mouth was covered once more and the kiss had turned desperate, as if he was begging her not to speak.

Slowly Hermione unwound her legs from around his waist, placing her hands on his face instead of around his neck. She gentled the kiss, stroking his cheeks as she pulled away carefully. Her lips felt heavy and bruised, her back pained. Her discomfort was catalogued and put away in a moment, for his seemed greater and more disturbing.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked again, letting her arms come down so that she could embrace him. "What happened?"

He was clutching her tight, and this close and this still she could feel his trembling. Hermione clutched at his back, bunching the cloth of his robes in her fist. His heart was beating fast. She could hear it with her head pressed to his chest.

"I just want to keep you safe," he whispered harshly against her hair. "The Dark Lord wants you dead and he wants Draco to do it."

To her own surprise and certainly to Severus', Hermione felt a light flooding of relief. "That's all?" she asked, letting out a shaky breath. "We knew there would be consequences to the Ministry."

He pulled away from her to look down, his eyes full of anger. "Consequences? This falls beyond consequences, Hermione. Now you are in just as much danger as Potter is-"

"Wrong," Hermione said, patting him on the arm. "It depends on how much the Dark Lords wants Draco to be the one to kill me. If it has to be Draco, then I only have one person to watch out for. If not, I'm in even more danger than Harry. However, I am considerably better at defending myself so-"

"This is no joke, Hermione!" Severus snapped. "Do you know what would happen if I lost you? If the Order lost you? If Potter lost you?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I'd expect they'd get along just fine," she said slowly. "But no one is losing me, Severus. It's just Draco. I can deflect his attacks."

"Which would lead to his death," Severus snapped.

"He is a Death Eater," Hermione said quietly. "And I am an Order member. A high ranking Order member at that, Severus. For this war, for the Order, it is better that he dies than I. We can try to stop that from happening, since you do care about him, but I will not sacrifice myself for Malfoy."

Severus stepped back from her, going to sit in the chair in front of her desk, hunching over and hiding his face with his hands. "I wouldn't ask you to, Hermione," he said roughly.

From where she was, he looked so weary. So terribly, terribly weary. Hermione approached him slowly, going to stand behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders, pushing down on the tight muscles lightly, then harder when he relaxed under her hands.

"I can't imagine how hard tonight has had to be for you, Severus," she said, her voice sad yet steady. "Having to go up before the Dark Lord, risking your life once again. Seeing your godson, whom you care for, being forced to become a murder before he is even a man. Seeing the boy you are supposed to have protected taking a side in a war in which you are fighting for the other side. And then hearing him being given a task that hurts another person you-" her voice stumbled, then stopped.

"Another person I love," Severus said quietly.

Hermione fought to speak past the overwhelming emotion that rose in her throat, filling her lungs. "Another person you love," she repeated. "You've had it rough tonight. So let's give you a break."

Severus twisted in his chair to look at her. "What kind of break?"

"There is nothing absolutely pressing right this instant, right?" Hermione asked. "It's barely six. Let's go somewhere far, far away from here and have dinner. We can talk about anything but the war and enjoy ourselves for a night before we can't any longer."

When he didn't respond, a sinking feeling took over Hermione's belly. Maybe she had moved too fast? "Or we could stay here," she proposed. "I could cook and we could just eat together and then- I dunno. Read. Talk. The bathtub here is brilliant- you could use that to relax a bit."

His dark eyes closed, and he turned back around, leaning back until his head was pressed against her belly. "Actually... dinner would sound wonderful if we didn't have to worry about that Diggory boy."

Hermione laughed softly. "True. What if I cooked and brought it up to my room?"

"Absolutely not," Severus said, his voice not as sharp as his words suggested. "We can go to my chambers in Hogwarts and I can cook properly there. I fear that the most you can make, my dear, is pasta."

A light flush of heat rose in Hermione's cheeks. She had been planning on making pasta- he knew her too well, or had been inside her mind too much. "You need carbohydrates," she protested weakly.

"I need good food," corrected Severus. "Fish. Fish would be good. I could ask the house elves to bring up a nice filet of salmon-"

"If you can ask the house-elves for raw fish you can just as well ask them for cooked," Hermione said tartly.

"But when's the last time you've had a Potions Master cook for you?" Severus asked, tilted his head back so he could look at her. "I am a fantastic cook."

Hermione had to stop herself from pouting. "Fine," she said, giving in with a sigh. "But I thought the purpose of this was to get your mind off work. To relax. And your chambers are kind of where we usually work."

Severus made an ironic gesture toward her desk. "And you don't mix room and workplace?"

"I'm not the one who needs to get my mind off things," Hermione retorted. "Come on."

Severus stood, accompanied by a series of pops. "I'm getting old," he muttered. "You know, the castle is empty. All the teachers are on holiday. We could cook in my rooms and take the food anywhere we like."

"The Astronomy Tower?" Hermione suggested. When Severus gave her a withering glare, she flapped a hand at him. "Oh, stop."

"The number of randy young wizard's trying to get under some equally randy witch's robes that I've found up there-"

"Doesn't matter," Hermione said firmly. "We could look at the stars."

He opened his mouth again, but Hermione beat him to talking. "Please?"

For a moment he didn't reply, his jaw working. "Fine," he snapped. "But we're having fish."

Watching Severus make potions was a joy; his hands flew faster than Hermione had known was possible, cutting, grinding, peeling, mashing, stirring, all in swift and elegant movements that used precision and eloquence of movement.

Watching him cook was much the same. The intense expression was nearly identical: the tight line of his mouth, the slight furrow of his brow, the fierce gaze of his eyes. Except... rather than unpalatable potions ingredients, he was staring down at an array of vegetables and a dead fish. Nevertheless, Hermione was quite alright with watching him cook with absolute concentration, occasionally sipping at the glass of elf-made wine he had poured her shortly before to order the ingredients he needed from a terrified house elf.

The wine had a heady taste that sank down into her belly with a warmth Hermione enjoyed in the cold of the dungeons. It was rich, with the slightly acrid taste of alcohol and faint flowers. The small amount she had already consumed made her head feel just a touch lighter, as if the lights in Severus' rooms glowed stronger. Perched as she was on his counter, the floor seemed just the slightest bit farther away.

"And that is that," said Severus, a small and satisfied smile gracing his face. "Half an hour to finish cooking and then we can eat."

Hermione smiled up at him, feeling emotion welling up as she did. He looked a bit taken aback at her smile, throwing a quick glance at her wine glass.

"Don't fret," she told him. "I'm just happy."

He raised one eyebrow. "And why one earth would you be happy right now?'

"Because I'm here and because you're here too," said Hermione. "And that is a good thing. Because you just cooked me dinner and we're going to eat it together and have a perfectly lovely evening."

Severus scowled at her, then picked up his own glass of untouched wine. "I'm assuming that if something happens you would have warned me or yourself already?"

"Nothing's appeared to make you unable to have a little wine," Hermione said, checking her watch. "It would be perfectly fine."

With that, he swirled the wine once in his glass then drank deeply. She watched intently as his throat moved and half the dark liquid in the glass disappeared. The line of his throat was long and elegant, more than worthy of her intense interest, Hermione thought.

Severus, apparently, didn't. "Why are you staring at me?" he demanded.

"Because you're a strange kind of beautiful," Hermione told him plainly. "Harshly beautiful. Your neck, your hands, your nose..."

The furrow in his forehead deepened. "Perhaps this wine was stronger than I had thought," he murmured.

"It isn't," Hermione said, setting down her long-stemmed glass. "I think things like this normally, but I just don't say them."

He scowled at her. "Then why say them now? If you're not drunk, that is, which I am suspecting-"

"Because you asked me the question!" Hermione protested. "And I'm giving you an honest answer. If you react like this every time I give you an honest answer I might just have to start lying through my teeth." She returned his scowl.

Severus was quiet for a moment, considering. "Fair enough," he said finally. "I do prefer the truth. Although what you told me was far from it."

"What I told you?" Hermione asked. Her scowl had lifted a bit, but now it was back in full force. "What do you mean what I told you was far from the truth?"

She was making him uncomfortable, that Hermione could tell from the hunch of his shoulders and the sudden stillness of his face. "That I'm any kind of beautiful, let alone strangely," he told her tartly. "You of all people should know what is beautiful and what is not, myself being an example of the latter." He paused, then made a small joke in a faint attempt to lighten the bitterness in his voice. "But then again you love that cat of yours and it's the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm not lying to you, Severus," she said quietly, her scowl gone. "I wouldn't do that. And I also know what is beauty and what isn't. I know my cat is an example of the later and you of the former." She sighed again and shifted in her seat, reluctantly raising her eyes to his face. "You don't know what I see in you, Severus."

There was a sudden frailty to his flat expression as pieces of his emotions started to break through. Hermione could read them in his eyes, dark eyes that begged  _ tell me. _

"If I just go by the physical, I'll start with your grace," she said, her voice perfectly serious. "Lithe as a cat, elegant, powerful. Your hands move so fast, your fingers are so long." Hermione was unaware that her voice was drifting into dreaminess, losing the serious cast. "I dream about those hands more often than I'd like to admit. And your arms- Severus, I've never felt safer than in your arms. They're strong, they're like iron, and they've carried me to safety so many times."

Hermione had to stop for a moment to compose herself. "Sorry."

"Continue," Severus said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

Hermione gave him a weak smile. "And your voice. So expressive. It's low and deep and sometimes when you speak to me I can hear it in my bones, Severus. That voice is in my dreams too, except it's saying words I've never heard you say... I know the tone of it isn't right but as soon as I hear you say those things it'll be in my mind forever. And speaking of minds- your mind is so quick. Faster than mine, full of knowledge, full of sarcasm and tenderness and the farthest thing from gentle- except maybe when you're with me."

"Those aren't things that make a person beautiful," Severus murmured. He was closer to her now. Where she was seated on his counter, he was standing directly in front of her, just about filling the entirety of her vision. She could feel his warmth, could feel the brush of his breath on her skin when he spoke.

Hermione closed her eyes. "Yes, they are," she told him firmly. She could be more definite about it when her eyes were shut, so she kept them closed. "They give reason to your features. You are a harsh, cold person to the rest of the world, you know that and I do too. To them, you are frightening. Your nose, your eyes, the strength of your features. But to someone who has seen the warmth, who notes the elegance, there is pride and strength and courage in your face. I don't care what anyone else thinks, but to me, you are the most physically attractive man I've ever had the absolute pleasure of kissing." She opened her eyes and smirked at him.

"I'm the only man you've kissed," Severus told her, tapping her lightly on the forehead.

Hermione's smirk changed into an innocent smile. "And the only one I want to kiss, which is why I'm hoping you'll oblige me."

Slowly he moved closer to the counter. Hermione spread her legs before she had realized it, just wanting him to move closer to her. Severus noticed and smirked; Hermione blushed. Then, quickly, before she could say something, he was there between her thighs and kissing her gently, one hand cupping the back of her head carefully, as if he knew that it was tender from where it had struck the door earlier.

Severus' mouth was soft, his body warm as she arched against him, wrapping her legs around his narrow hips and pulling him closer. With the height of the counter she was barely shorter than him, making it easier to tilt her head and kiss him as properly as she knew how.

He moved slowly and kindly enough that she didn't lose her head in the fierceness of the kiss; rather, she was brought low by the flood of tender emotion and the echo of pain as his hand trailed up and down her spine, brushing the newly forming bruises. There was a thank you and an apology in his kiss, in the way his tongue brushed hers ever so softly, in the way his teeth came down on her lower lip with the faintest of pressures and he spent the next moments soothing the bite.

Hermione tried to kiss him just as sweetly, grateful for the steady stone of the counter and the strength of the man she was wound around. Just as she was starting to regain some clarity in her head, he moved to her neck, kissing softly and with just a small flick of his tongue.

She arched into it and the hand on her back followed, pressing a bit too hard just as she started to speak. "Fu- Fuck!"

Severus instantly froze, his lips leaving her neck and his hands her body as he took a step back. "That wasn't a good 'fuck,'" he said warily.

Hermione grimaced, then bent her arm to try to cautiously touch her lower back. "It was supposed to be," she said regretfully. "I'm just a bit bruised, is all."

It took a split second for the connection to be made in Severus' mind- the way she had moved when walking earlier, gingerly as if something was hurting, the slight rip in the back of her shirt that his fingers had explored briefly.

"Fuck," he swore lightly.

"That wasn't a good 'fuck' either," Hermione pointed out, biting her lip. Her attempt at making the mood lighter failed miserably as he glowered at her.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Severus said formally, moving toward the stove and avoiding her eyes. "My deepest apologies."

With a low sigh, Hermione slid off the counter and onto her feet. "I'm fine," she said, a slight emphasis on the word. "Really, Severus. You didn't mean it, it didn't hurt that much, and I've had worse. It'll be gone in a week." She shrugged, moving out of the way as he removed a tray with a fish surrounded by vegetables from the oven.

He set it down on the stovetop too hard and some of the juices sloshed over the sides. "You are not  _ fine, _ " Severus snarled, his back to her. The line of his shoulders was harsh, tense. If she had tried to massage the tension from those muscles, Hermione would have found them hard like stone. "I hurt you badly enough to make you say a word I don't believe I've heard you say before-"

"Bullshit," Hermione said calmly, planting her hands on her hips. "I called you a bloody-fucking-wanker when you burned me." Too late, she realized it was a bad example. Severus' face tightened and he began to manually pack the food in a container that would keep it warm on the trek to the Astronomy tower, his mouth a hard line.

"Look," Hermione said with a sigh. "I'm a big girl. I can make my own decisions about whether or not I'm fine. And I have decided that I am fine, based on several things. Firstly, I thoroughly enjoyed getting those bruises. To be honest, I found it a bit exciting. Secondly, it is true that I've had worse and some of those have been from stupid things like tripping over air. Thirdly, it's not like I lost a finger, Severus. I have some bruises on my back. That hurt just a tiny little bit when I'm getting the living daylights very enjoyably snogged out of me. So I think I'm fine. It's not up to you to decide whether or not I'm okay. That's up to me. Got it?"

Their eyes met like a battle of wills, his desire to be upset with himself fighting against Hermione's utter lack of anger. If she wasn't angry then there wasn't really any reason for him to be angry at himself- so he looked away and nodded once, sharply.

"Good," Hermione said, stretching experimentally. "But if you want to be helpful about it, you can help me rub some bruise balm on them."

Severus shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose sharply, the gesture Hermione had picked up from him. "You are going to be the death of me, woman," he said under his breath. "I've got some extra strength bruise balm that I've brewed. With that, they should be gone by the time you eat dinner tomorrow."

Hermione walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing the side of her head to his chest. "Thank you, Severus," she said, keeping her voice low. "That would be lovely."

He cleared his throat and stepped out of her embrace. "Let me go get it," he said, rushing over his words. Even so, none of his flustered speech appeared in the smooth way he left the kitchen, disappearing further into his rooms.

Hermione wandered into the sitting room, looking at her chair, then sighing and going to sit on the sofa. Her chair wasn't big enough for two.

Severus reappeared in an instant, crossing the room to reach the sofa. Hermione turned her back to him, reaching behind her and pulling her shirt up to reveal her back.

"What do you think you're doing?" Severus asked sharply. "Put that back on!"

"It's still on," Hermione said, feeling a shred of her patience slip away. "And I can't reach my back! You put the bruises there, you help take them away. I didn't ask you to get the balm just so I can waste half of it trying to put it on my own back."

She couldn't see him, but Hermione knew the exact exasperated and fond expression that crossed Severus' face. However, she could feel the dip as he sank onto the couch behind her. "Thank you," she said, her smile leaking into her voice.

"Don't thank me yet," Severus said, leaning forward so that his voice was low and in her ear. The other hand trailed up her back until it reached her bra. "You have some under here, too." As he spoke, he undid the clasp of her bra, leaving her entire back bare before him.

Severus gazed down at it, a number of feelings roiling in his stomach. The sight of the darkening bruises had quenched the faint ardor that had risen when her back, long and gently curved, had been revealed him.

Reaching into the pot of balm, Severus scooped out two fingertips worth of greenish substance and began to spread it liberally on the darkening areas. Hermione shivered as it touched her skin, letting out a soft noise of happiness as the healing cool sank through her skin and into the bruise.

"I am sorry," Severus said again, frowning even as he rubbed the balm in, taking great care to keep his touch light. "You have to tell me if I hurt you, instead of having me find out when I hurt you worse."

"You didn't exactly hurt me-" Hermione said.

Severus let out an angry huff. "So I'm sitting here rubbing medicine on your back because I like wasting the hours of hot and sweaty cauldron work it takes to make bruise balm?"

She was quiet. "Sorry."

"You'd better be," Severus told her, his voice sharp even as his hands were gentle. "I told you that I'm clumsy with this, Hermione. I don't want to hurt you. Help me learn from it- don't deny it happens. What do you think would happen if I ignored Longbottom blowing up his cauldron in class to spare him the embarrassment? Soon we'd all be dead and smoking."

He finished smoothing on the last dollop of bruise balm, then refastened her bra and lowered her shirt. "Alright, then," he said. "Let's eat before the food gets cold."

* * *

"It's cold up here," Severus said, frowning as he examined the Astronomy Tower. Apparently, everything about it disturbed him- the grey stones, the clear view of the sky, and the summer wind that moved Hermione's hair lightly.

Hermione shushed him, throwing a blanket over the cold stones. "I thought you knew how to cast warming spells?"

Her answer was a scowl, and an immediate feeling of warmth emanating from the stones surrounding them. Hermione smirked and sat, then patted the ground next to her. "It's much nicer down here," she told him. "Come on!"

Severus handed her the basket and sat beside Hermione, only lessening his frown when she handed him a plate full of food. "Thank you," he said, his voice only just barely on the good side of terse.

Hermione smiled at him. "You're welcome. And you're the one who cooked, after all."

"And?" Severus asked. "Is it good?"

Hermione made a show of finding her fork, then slowly cutting and spearing the fish, lifting it her mouth and eating with far less speed than was believable. He scowled at her again, and she laughed- she was the only person who laughed when Severus Snape scowled at them.

"It's delicious," Hermione told him finally, her smile teasing. "Better than any fish I've ever eaten, actually." At his incredulous eyebrow, Hermione continued. "No, really! My parents never cooked anything fancy, and I usually don't choose the fish here at Hogwarts. This is really, really good."

Impulsively, Hermione leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'll have to have you cook for me more often."

Warmth blossomed in Severus' belly, warmth that had nothing to do with the sip of wine he had just taken or the spell he had cast on the stones.

To quell it, he took a bite of fish.

It was quite good, if he did admit it to himself. Spiced to perfection, cooked just the right amount of time, and not dry as some baked fish sometimes was. It was losing its heat, yes, but that was just because of the amount of time it had taken to get from the oven to their mouths.

"We need to plan for-" he began to say, but he was cut off by Hermione's stern look and a fork that was perilously close to his face.

"None of that," Hermione commanded, her voice stern enough to brook no discussion. "None. We are not going to talk about work. Anything else, but what we normally do. That's why we're here, on this tower instead of in your rooms."

They were silent for a moment, listening to the quiet that wasn't-quite quiet at all. The wind made odd sounds against the walls of the castle; the Owlery was not far away and the hooting of owls and the sounds of them flapping their wings to defy gravity and soar into the night reached the couple with the wind.

"Do we know how to talk about something other than work?" Severus asked after a moment.

Hermione laughed. "Of course we do. We're just badly out of practice. I'll start. What's your favorite color?" She paused, then looked directly at him and waved her fork at him again. "And don't say black, because I know that's not true."

He cracked a small smile. "I've always liked grey-blue. The kind that's dark and you aren't sure which color it is. And yours?"

"I find I'm fond of green," Hermione said after a moment. "Not light green or the very dark shades, the ones that are in the middle and just look like growing things."

They were both quiet again, enjoying the food and the wine. "The stars are nice tonight," said Hermione, tilting her head to look up at the sky. "Look. Do you know any of the constellations?"

"I took Astronomy, same as you," Severus said, humor in his voice. "The plough, there. Cassiopeia, if I'm correct is just there- below Polaris." He pointed out each star with a long finger, watching Hermione following his hand with her eyes.

"I've always liked that story," Hermione said, looking up at the stars again. "Cassiopeia."

"The vain queen who thought her daughter was more beautiful than the nymphs," Severus murmured. "Why like that one?"

Hermione laughed, but it didn't sound right to Hermione. "At least there was a mother that loved her daughter," Hermione explained. "That thought she was beautiful, that bragged about her because she was so proud of being that child's parent. Unlike other mothers in mythology. Take my namesake for example- Hermione. Helen's daughter. Helen of Troy just left her children for no reason. She didn't love them, didn't care about them. When I explain that I was named after Helen of Troy's daughter, hardly anyone even knew that Helen of Troy had a daughter. The only reason anyone knows who Cassiopeia is was because Cassiopeia loved Andromeda."

Hermione set down her empty plate, picking up her glass of wine, holding it in front of her with one hand as she drew up her knees and wrapped her free arm around them. She looked vulnerable in that instant, Severus noticed, her face drawn and almost angry.

"Your mother loved you," Severus said after a moment of debating with himself. He didn't know if it was the right thing to say, or if she would burst into tears.

The look Hermione gave him wasn't a glare, but it wasn't particularly friendly either. "And you would know...?"

"Because I went through her mind and removed every trace of you from it," he told her, half tartly. "And it was bloody difficult."

Hermione took in the information quietly, taking a large gulp of wine as Severus finished his plate and packed it away with hers. He packed up the small basket, putting it on the stone floor so that he could use the blanket to stretch out. Diagonally was the only way to keep his entire body on the blanket and away from the cold stone, and even then he had to concentrate and elongate the blanket.

He had just finished the spell when Hermione's warm body moved to his side, her head resting on his bicep. "Sorry," she whispered, then pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Severus turned his head quickly, catching her close enough to kiss her swiftly. "She loved you," he said again, caressing her cheek with his hand. "Your father too. They just didn't know how to love a child and a magical one at that."

"Thank you," she said, whispering once more. Hermione shifted, laying next to him so that she could see the stars.

The rest of the night passed quietly in conversation that was barely audible, conducted in soft voices, then whispers, and then kisses. It was only when deep night began to fall and the air grew too cold, that Severus and Hermione descended, leaving the tower for the warmth of the castle.

* * *

"Hermione, dear? Are you home?" The familiar voice called from the entrance to the Safe House, startling Cedric Diggory from his half-doze in front of the fire.

He stood and stretched, calling back, "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley! She isn't here right now."

The slowly fading head of red curls, bustled into the sitting room. "Cedric Diggory! Didn't I tell you that you call me Molly now? How are you, dear? Are the house-elves feeding you alright?" She pulled him down, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Cedric smiled at her, following the woman into the kitchen, where she had already placed a large bag full of food. "Yes, they are. When Hermione isn't here, anyhow. She always gets a little frown on her face when I ask them to do something, so when she's here I've been trying my hand at cooking." He gave Molly a charming grin. "I'm not good at it. Yet."

Molly planted her hands on her hips. "Poor thing! You know you are always welcome at the Burrow, right? You can have dinner with us all. Fleur is still home- you could keep her company while Bill's working!"

"I know," Cedric said, still smiling widely. "Bill wouldn't mind?"

Giving him a sweet smile and a pat on the cheek, Molly shook her head. "Oh no, of course not. And we need to get some food into you. Have you eaten tonight?"

"Yeah," Cedric said, nodding at the sink, where a pile of gleaming dishes were drying. "Hermione's been out for most of the day so Dobby made me some lunch and dinner."

Clucking her tongue, Molly continued to put away food in the cupboards and cold box, far more than what would have ordinarily fit into a bag the size of the one on the table. "Humph. That girl. Always worried about the house-elves. I tell you, if I had a house-elf I'd be putting it to proper work. Any word on why she was out today? And would you like some cake, dear?"

"Yes, please. A meeting with Dumbledore, or Professor Snape," Cedric answered, accepting a piece of cake happily. "I don't know which. But Snape normally comes here, so I'm guessing Dumbledore."

"Oh?" Molly asked. "Tea, dear?"

"I'll start it," Cedric offered generously. "I can do that, at least, in the kitchen. Or... not."

Molly had taken the kettle from him. "Of course not," she chided. "Sit. I'll take care of it. It's been alright, living here with just you and Hermione?"

It would have taken an idiot to not hear the pointedness of her last question. Cedric turned red, then coughed. "I swear I wouldn't dare touch her," Cedric said, then coughed again. "Sorry."

Molly seemed to relax a bit. "I do say, it isn't proper," she said, frowning down at Cedric. She sat down and handed the boy a cup of tea. "I only found out this morning that it was just the two of you in this house. What Dumbledore was thinking I don't know- a young man and a young lady all alone in such a big house? I thought that Andromeda was here again as a chaperone, but when I Flooed to see how Nymphadora Tonks was doing and she was home! Apparently she's been home and visiting her daughter in the hospital- the proper place, I admit- but I thought you'd at least have a chaperone!"

Cedric took a swallow of tea. "Excellent, Mrs- Molly, sorry. I think Hermione and I are old enough to not need a chaperone, Molly. And besides, I think that if I even thought of touching her the wrong way I'd end up with a hand missing."

This didn't seem to register correctly with Molly; by the way she laughed, it was clear that she thought Cedric was joking. "Now, I don't think that Hermione would be so averse to a little attention from a handsome young man. Although-"

"I'm not kidding," Cedric said seriously. "I wouldn't risk it. And anyway, she doesn't seem to be interested in anything but talking with Professor Snape, reading, and practicing." At Molly's questioning look, he clarified. "With knives. She's a bit too deadly for me."

Molly laughed again. "Hermione wouldn't hurt a fly- she just knows these things in case something was to happen to Harry- Severus went a bit overboard with teaching her, from what I heard."

Cedric shook his head, seriousness still etched on his features. "She's killed people, Molly. You weren't at the Order meeting right after what happened at the Ministry, were you? Remus told me about it- how someone asked Hermione why she killed those Death Eaters and then Snape almost blew up at him."

A fluttering hand went to Molly's mouth. "Oh, Merlin," she breathed. "What? She  _ killed _ Death Eaters?"

"It's not exactly rare for her to do," Cedric continued. "After the last Order meeting she and Snape went out and got more of them. And in the graveyard."

Now the Weasley matron was pale, and the hand over her mouth pressed down as if she was trying to keep herself from throwing up. "I didn't know! I thought there had just been an accident in the graveyard- and the Ministry of Magic is full of dangerous things-"

"Like scorpions commanded to fatally sting two unconscious men?" asked Cedric. "And the other night wasn't an accident. I heard them talking. It was like a  _ joke _ for them."

Molly's hand went down, finally, her mouth in a hard line. "How many other people know about this?" she asked.

Cedric shrugged. "Just me, I think. Dumbledore, maybe."

Molly finished up her cup of tea, then stood. "Don't say anything, just yet," she ordered. "I'm going to talk to a few people. And not a word to Hermione."

Cedric nodded shakily. "Al-Alright. Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 38!
> 
> Would love all of your comments and kudos, as per usual. I will respond to each and every one once I have some spare time!!


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating on time today! Folks, it's been a week. We had to sign a lease without seeing the apartment due to covid, drove 5 hours with the UHaul with ALL OF OUR POSSESSIONS only to find out that the apartment was a disaster, completely uninhabitable, had to break our lease and find a new apartment asap. It was a mess. 
> 
> On to the chapter! This one has a lot of jumps - hopefully y'all remember the memories that Dumbledore showed Harry. Just in case: they go in the general order of: Ministry Bloke Meets the Gaunts, Dumbledore Goes to the Orphanage, Morfin Meets Tom, and finally, Tom at the Slug Club.

**_Chapter 39_ **

Hermione felt something she was quite sure was a hangover when she opened her eyes blearily the next morning. She had slept in far past her normal hour- well, she had slept the same amount, she had just gone to bed at four in the morning.

The inside of her mouth felt disgusting and tasted worse, and the heaviness in her bones was combating the rolling of her stomach.

When Hermione forced herself to sit up in bed, the rolling felt worse. "Ugh," she groaned, reaching out blindly for the glass of water she kept by the bed. It was empty- probably drunk in the night- but there was a small vial of a bright red potion and a small scrap of parchment.

_ You had four and a half glasses of wine. Normally that wouldn't be an issue, but if I am correct this was your first time drinking alcohol. Since it was my fault, drink this. _

"Gods bless you, Severus," Hermione croaked. Downing the potion was awful, but after three and a half minutes- better than the normal five to six required- the hangover potion had quelled the nausea and the headache felt considerably better. It seemed that the only thing for her mouth would be to brush her teeth, which Hermione did quickly.

It was only when she returned from the bathroom that she noticed the time- almost half-past twelve- and swore lightly. She had been supposed to meet with Dumbledore to view the memories that morning.

But, if anything else, time was on Hermione's side. 

The time stream moved around Hermione, leaving her in her own room at seven-thirty in the morning- with the sleeping body of her past self. Hermione crept to her own bedside, drank the full glass of water, then left the room, almost tripping over the small vial full of the red potion, and the note.

After a quick trip back into her room to put the potion on her bedside table, Hermione closed the door with a click and crept down the stairs. She had just enough time to eat breakfast before meeting with Dumbledore.

* * *

"I am going to cast a complicated spell on you, Hermione," Dumbledore warned, pulling out his wand. "A significant portion of this memory takes place in Parseltongue, and it is essential that you understand it."

Hermione frowned at the wand but nodded. "Alright." The feeling of the spell washing over her was unpleasant, settling in her ears with a feeling like they were stuffed with cotton.

Dumbledore gestured at the Pensieve, nearly overflowing with the memories he had just put in it. "After you, my dear girl," he said. His voice sounded like it was coming to her from far away, a side effect of the spell.

Hermione moved forward, bending so that her head touched the silvery substance. As soon as the cool fluid met her forehead, she was tilting and falling inside.

"Your thoughts, my dear?" Dumbledore asked, steepling his fingers. He peered at her from over the rims of his half-moon glasses.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes to help her think. "Well. First of all, that graveyard looked familiar. Little Hangleton's graveyard. So if Voldemort took Harry and me there last year, then that means this memory is obviously connected to him somehow. Since there was talk in the graveyard of "bone of the father, unknowingly given" I would presume to guess that Voldemort's family is from Little Hangleton."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Interesting. Continue with that theory."

_ Does that mean I'm right or wrong? _ Hermione thought. The thought that she might be making a fool of herself by being completely wrong was very uncomfortable. "The Dark Lord's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle," she continued slowly. "There was a boy named Tom outside the window and the old man was Marvolo Gaunt, descendent of Slytherin- like Tom Riddle. Therefore, I would guess that Voldemort is somehow related to the people in that cottage- he couldn't be Morfin's son because then his last name would be Gaunt. Which leaves Merope- and that sounds right. She seemed to like the Muggle Tom, and it stands to reason she would give her son her father's name as well."

"Continue," said the Headmaster, a serious look on his face. "Go on, my dear."

Hermione frowned, thinking it over. "Tom seemed quite infatuated with Cecilia, much to Merope's dismay. I would gather that Tom took advantage of Merope and got her pregnant, and she named the child after him in an attempt to gain his attention."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together slowly. "Brava, brava," he said, his delight evident in his voice. "Excellent work, Hermione! You were unerringly correct until the last part. Merope Gaunt was not taken advantage of by Tom- Tom Riddle, in fact. Rather, Tom Riddle was taken advantage of by Merope Gaunt."

_ Drat. Well, I was mostly right.  _ "Okay," Hermione said slowly. "What happened after that memory ended?"

"Odgen returned with reinforcements and took Morfin and Marvolo away to Azkaban. Merope was left alone for the first time in her life," explained the great wizard.

"And the literature says that when witches or wizards are in emotionally or physically abusive households, magic may not flourish," Hermione interrupted. "So I'm guessing Merope's magic came to her in time, when she wasn't being terrified of her father and brother."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Exactly, Hermione. Somehow she seduced or magicked Tom Riddle, became pregnant by him, and events transpired to leave a young Tom Riddle to be raised by an orphanage. I'm guessing she used a love potion- it would have been more romantic than the Imperious Curse."

"And Tom Riddle Senior?" Hermione asked. "What do we know about him?"

"Only that the village was scandalized by the squire's son running away with the tramp's daughter," Dumbledore said, his voice a bit mournful. "Only that he ran back to the village a few months after the wedding, telling stories about being 'hoodwinked' or 'taken in' by Merope. The villagers incorrectly assumed that she had lied to him and told him she was pregnant, trapping him into a false marriage."

Hermione sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "And Merope?"

"She went to London," Dumbledore answered. "Where she pawned her only item of value- the locket of Salazar Slytherin- to Caractacus Burke. Here."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve in the manor of a gold prospector sifting for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along . . . Going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, breathing slowly to quell her rage, her furious and white-hot rage that was threatening to choke her. "Ten gallons?" she asked finally. "Is he still alive?"

"Not anymore," Dumbledore said, frowning at her. "His son now runs the family shop."

"So Merope was left alone and pregnant in London with only ten gallons," Hermione said wearily. "In the middle or end of winter, if the timing of the memory fits with the timeline?"

"Yes," Dumbledore answered. "And without her magic, I presume. If she had had it, she might not have died as she did."

That made sense to Hermione. "And how did she die?"

"Alone and in pain," Dumbledore said plainly. "Leaving her son to a Muggle orphanage. Come. Now we shall visit my own memory."

* * *

"I trust you found it rich in both detail and accuracy?" Dumbledore asked casually as they left the Pensieve. "I do find that the memories of Occlumens are far superior to those who are not."

"It was fine," Hermione replied, her head spinning slightly.  _ I never knew that Dumbledore was ginger. Or that his lack of fashion sense was bad even back then.  _ "Better than the first," she amended at the look of slight affront on Dumbledore's face.

Dumbledore circled around his desk to sit in his giant chair. "And once again, Hermione, I find myself asking for your thoughts."

To her own surprise, Hermione found tears in her eyes. "His childhood was miserable," she said softly, refusing to look at the Headmaster. "Alone, all alone, in that place. His physical needs were cared for but his emotional needs were not. What resulted was a boy who- who found his magic because animals would do what he told them to and because people who made him mad would get hurt."

How a child's magic manifested itself was an important indicator of that child's home life and personality. Hermione had read about it after hearing several different stories from her classmates, none of which matched her own experiences.

A child who was well-loved and relatively happy would experience accidental magic that would cure small misfortunes- deliver candy from a high shelf or fix a broken toy. A child who was lonely would call animals to them or animate their toys. A child who wanted attention or wanted to exert their own will would have experimental magic that would affect other people, in small ways or in large.

However, there was a large difference between accidental and experimental magics. Accidental magic was truly accidental- the child had no conscious control over it, no way to call it to them or exert any kind of will over it. It would not be replicable or reliable. For example, Harry, who had spontaneously Apparated himself onto the school roof when being chased by his cousin, once and never again.

Experimental magic was rarer, and was concentrated in children with remarkable control over their fledgeling powers. Although the magical core did not begin to stabilize before the age of eleven, some children were able to instinctively grasp how to flex their magic, how to divert it to their needs. These were the children who excelled in magic, who seemed to automatically know to use a wand. Experimental magic was much harder, and much rarer.

Calling animals was experimental. So was making objects fly with regularity- Hermione making her books fly off the shelves and into her hands, calling down objects from high places when she needed them. This was what had scared her parents- it wasn't once or twice that she did this, but whenever she had needed something as a child. Until about eight or so, at least, when she first realized that it terrified her parents.

But even Hermione had never used her influence on other people, the kind that the young boy in the memory did. Commanding people to 'tell the truth!` and expecting them to do so- it was a kind of mind magic. Coercing people into doing things wasn't just rare, it was practically unheard of. And slightly terrifying. It suggested a child with such a need for control over his surroundings that his magic allowed him to take hold of people's minds. That he was so dismissive of the autonomy of other children, of other adults, that he was able to do so with no compunctions.

It didn't quite sicken Hermione, but it made her uncomfortable, as it had made Albus Dumbledore in that orphanage so many decades ago.

"He wasn't quite right even back then, as a child," Hermione said haltingly. "He didn't see others as important, he didn't have respect for other children or even adults- he didn't show you any deference until you had proved that you would be useful to him if he was polite to you. Tom Riddle seems like a sociopath- he would use people until he didn't need them anymore and he would adapt himself until he was what he needed to be. And he was certain he was special and that he was above any kind of law or order."

"Why do you say that?" asked Dumbledore curiously. "I came to the same conclusion myself, but I am curious as to how you made the same leap."

Hermione snorted, shaking her head. "It wasn't hard at all. The most blatant sign- his reaction to hearing that the barman was named Tom. He dislikes having a common name, and even now that shows with his choice of alias- Lord Voldemort. It's grand, it's noble-sounding, it's everything he didn't come from. And his saying himself that he had been sure he was special and different. But there was something more- how he shut down when you said that he was practising magic that wasn't tolerated at Hogwarts. The idea that someone could try to control him was the only thing that disturbed him. Your forcing him to give back the trophies he had taken, also angered him- he hated anyone exerting control over him."

For a moment the only sounds in the office was the slow breathing of the two Order members. Both were thinking, both trying to analyze what they had seen, Hermione for the first time and Albus for what Hermione was sure was the latest of many.

At last, the Headmaster spoke again. "And how do you think I handled the situation?"

Hermione frowned, biting her lip as she thought. "As well as you could have. I would be quite surprised if you didn't leave that meeting with a firm conviction that Tom Riddle was a wizard that would need to be watched and watched carefully at that. But making him give back his trophies earned you his animosity, if I am correct."

"Not outright animosity," Dumbledore admitted. "Tom Riddle was the perfect student here at Hogwarts. All his teachers loved him, all the students loved him. Here, his facade was rarely broken. I was the only one to see him as he was then. And I was the only one who saw that particular facet of his nature- his predisposition toward collecting mementoes of his acts of magic and hate."

"Which is where his Horcruxes come in." Hermione frowned, rubbing at the back of her neck. "He collects things- the very idea of a Horcrux appeals to his magpie habits."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Exactly. There are several more memories I would like you to see, and we are approaching lunchtime. I suggest we conduct this discussion with the aid of some lunch?"

Hermione glanced at her watch, then looked up ruefully. She had gotten caught up in the discussion, the thrill of new knowledge. She hadn't even noticed that the faint pangs of hunger were thrumming in her stomach. "That would be lovely, actually."

"Well," said Dumbledore, clapping his hands together. "Why don't you pop into the next memory while I get us some food?" He scooped some of the silver substance out of the Pensieve, urging it into little glass vials. From his colorful robes, Dumbledore withdrew another little vial, and tipped this one into the Pensieve. "In you go!"

Hermione took a breath, then tipped her head into the bowl.

* * *

A small feast of sandwiches and butterbeer awaited Hermione when she emerged from the memory, slightly dizzy. As she stumbled to her seat, she gratefully accepted the full plate of sandwiches Dumbledore offered her.

"Thanks," Hermione said quickly, stuffing her mouth with half a sandwich. Suddenly, she was ravenous.

Dumbledore offered her an amused smile. "Take your time, my dear. So. I shall begin, since you are rather occupied. That was Morfin Gaunt's memory of his first meeting with his nephew, Tom Riddle."

"What led him to Morfin?" Hermione asked, taking a quick sip of butterbeer. "I thought he was under the impression that his mother couldn't have been a witch."

A nod was her response. "Yes, yes. When he arrived at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle spent years trying to locate his father, any mention of a Tom Riddle in the trophy hall, in prefect records, in newspaper articles, in club records. The few people who had gone to school with him that I could persuade or trick into talking to me told me that he was obsessed with his parentage."

It made sense to Hermione: an orphan who found he was the heir to a magical gift desperately searching for any record of the parent who had given it to him. Harry had done much the same thing with his father. Hermione didn't know how long Harry had stared at the Quidditch Cups with his father's name engraved on the gold. The other piece of information also made sense- those that had known Tom Riddle refusing to talk. "Who were those that talked?"

If he was surprised by her question, Dumbledore didn't show it. "None of the cadre of Slytherins he had gathered about himself, those who would later name themselves the Death Eaters. A few Ravenclaws in his year that had shared the library with him and noted his perusal of Wizarding genealogies. A teacher or two who had signed passes to the Restricted Section. No one very close to Tom. Not that many people were close to him- for all that he was adored by teachers and students alike, Tom never liked anyone else very much. He didn't have any confidants, any true friends."

"But he knew how to charm people into thinking they were his friends," Hermione murmured, having finished another sandwich. "Anyway. How did he find Morfin?"

Although Dumbledore shrugged, indicating what he was saying was only guesswork, his voice had the quiet calm of absolute confidence in what he was saying. "I would say that he sought out what he could on the one name he had left- Marvolo. He didn't know the surname of Gaunt, only that his grandfather's name was Marvolo. I believe he discovered that the Gaunts were the descendants of Slytherin in his fifth or sixth year- right before he called the Basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets. This was when he shed the name Tom Riddle for good- although it was the name he was called in class, he hated it. His followers soon learned to call him Lord Voldemort."

The feeling of cotton stuffing her ears made Hermione rub them absentmindedly, reminding Dumbledore of the spell he had placed on them. "My apologies," he told Hermione, flicking his wand at her and removing the spell. "It is rather uncomfortable."

Hermione nodded her agreement. "So. He tracks down Morfin Gaunt- but for what purpose? That memory ended rather abruptly."

"Morfin was hit on the head. He woke up much later with his family ring missing- to the screams of the maid that had found all three of the Riddles dead of mysterious causes in their mansion."

Hermione took a pensive bite out of another sandwich, thinking. "So he takes the ring, then kills three people- just for being the Muggles who spawned him. Am I guessing correctly that he made a Horcrux from the ring and the death of his father?"

"Your guess would be as good as mine," Dumbledore said mildly. "And since that was my guess as well, I would say that we are correct."

Hermione shook her head. "So that was his first Horcrux. From the blood of his father."

"Actually, no," Dumbledore corrected gently. "He had made one more before that, with the discovery of his great bloodline. You have actually seen this one, back in your second year."

_ My second year? _ thought Hermione, frowning.  _ The Chamber of Secrets? The – oh. The diary.  _ "It was the diary," Hermione said, sighing. "The diary that Harry destroyed. Horcruxes can be destroyed by basilisk venom."

Dumbledore frowned at her. "I didn't tell you that."

"I did some research of my own," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. "Did you honestly expect that you could tell me about some magical artefact that I had never heard of and not expect me to research it? Especially if these type of magic is going to be extremely important to Harry and the war we are fighting?"

He had no response to that, other than to sigh and give her a look of reproach. "You look far too much like Severus when you do that, my dear girl."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Thanks?"

The silence that filled the office was brief but heavy. Fawkes was dozing, or appeared to be dozing, and the portraits were not conversing with themselves but paying close attention to the discussion in front of them. After that brief and uncomfortable pause, Dumbledore gestured at the Pensieve. "Are you finished eating?"

Hermione nodded, brushing a few crumbs from the front of her shirt. "Yes. Next memory?"

"Not quite," Dumbledore said. "I wanted to tell you what happened to Morfin after the last memory we saw. Tell me, my dear: what do you think happened after three Muggles were found dead from the Killing Curse in a village where there was already one convicted Muggle hater?"

_ For all I know, there wasn't even a trial, _ Hermione thought grumpily. "So he was sent back to Azkaban?"

"That is correct," responded Dumbledore. "With a full and boastful confession, all three deaths on his wand, and a trial that lasted all of fifteen minutes."

If it hadn't been for Kingsley's tutelage in the many biased and unfair twists of the Wizarding legal system, Hermione might have been surprised. "At least there was a trial. At that age Tom Riddle was skilled enough to implant a fake memory that strong into Morfin?"

"It probably wasn't too difficult," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard in thought. "Yes, yes- I suppose Morfin had harbored fantasies of doing exactly what Tom had done to the man who had left his sister. But even at such a young age, Tom Riddle was ridiculously talented. So talented, in fact, he gained the attention of the head of Slytherin House, a teacher named Horace Slughorn."

The name sounded familiar to Hermione in an odd way. "Why do I feel like I've heard of him?" she asked Dumbledore.

"You might have, from Severus or anyone else who went to Hogwarts in the time before Severus was the Potions Master here at the school," admitted Dumbledore. "He is also rather famously connected to everyone and everything. Here, at Hogwarts, he had a small club of the most talented students in any subject- his own Potions, Charms, Quidditch, Transfiguration... Any student who shone in any way was invited to his Slug Club."

It sounded gross, but Hermione knew better than to say so. It was rather clever and beautifully Slytherin... a teacher, taking advantage of his post at one of the best schools of magic in Europe to cultivate relationships with the promising members of the future generation. "So I'm assuming Tom Riddle was in this Slug Club?" Hermione asked, already sure of the answer.

"Correct once again, Hermione," said the Headmaster. "And this is a memory of one such meeting. After you, my dear."

* * *

The first thing that Hermione said after they sat down once more was her first observation from the memory. "He had the ring," she said, her words spilling on top of each other. "He had already killed his father, why did he have to ask about Horcruxes? Nothing about the memory felt right. The fog- the voice- whoever gave that to you altered it."

"Of course Horace altered the memory," said Dumbledore serenely. "He gave a young Voldemort information about some of the darkest magic known to man- he is ashamed and doesn't wish for anyone to know about this. So, when I forced him to give me this memory, he altered it as best he could. I believe Severus taught you how to create a false memory- Horace Slughorn has had no such training."

Hermione sighed, folding her arms as she leaned back in her seat. "So. We don't know what information Tom Riddle got from Slughorn. How did you get the memory?"

Dumbledore chuckled as he answered. "I slipped a special little potion that Severus brewed me into some candied pineapple- it makes people more open to suggestion. It wasn't quite strong enough- I got the memory, but not the entire story. Which is where Harry is going to come in."

_ So he's going to use Harry again, _ Hermione thought wearily.  _ And I find myself thinking it might be a good thing, especially if this memory contains something important. _ "I'm assuming you are going to use his habit of collecting important people by dangling Harry in front of him like bait?"

The Headmaster frowned. "I'm hoping Harry will be able to use his charm to persuade Horace to part with the memory on his own. Of course, after I had taken the memory, I erased the giving from Horace's mind."

_ Well... that's not too bad. _ "Alright," Hermione said after a moment. "So we have a teacher who gave Riddle information about Horcruxes. But why would he need more information about them after he had already made one?"

"That is what we need to find out," Dumbledore said solemnly. "That is the last memory I have to show you today. Bring Harry with you tomorrow morning. He will need to view the same."

* * *

The Safe House was empty when Hermione returned. A note on the counter from Cedric told her that he was eating dinner with the Weasleys and an invitation had been extended to her if she should want to join them. The news made a small grin slip onto Hermione's face- she was alone in the house, and the solitude let something like calm wash over her.

There were no eyes to watch her, no ears to listen, no minds to judge. It was just her and the old house, and perhaps the house-elves puttering around somewhere. Both house-elves alternated with the Hogwarts kitchen, so there was even the possibility that they were not there as well.

Hermione let her fingers trail on the bannister of the staircase as she ascended to the second floor, where her bedroom was tucked into a corner. A noise reached her ears- it was her own humming.

Slowly Hermione changed, taking the time to firmly tie her hair back out of her face without magic. She took her cleaning kit and descended once more, going down a level further to the practice room.

The routine movements of cleaning and sharpening her knives added to her calm, which Hermione found quite odd after all she had learned over the course of a single morning.

Now that inhuman face she had seen in the graveyard had a history, a past, parents, grandparents. He had been well-liked in school, raised in an orphanage, the product of a loveless marriage. If she had just seen the memories with no context, Hermione herself might have felt bad for the boy she had seen stretched out on a steel-framed bed in a sterile orphanage.

No- she did feel pity for that boy. Something about the way he had held his head, proud but scared, how he had been so sure that the director of the orphanage was having him institutionalized. That was a boy who knew what he had been doing was wrong, was bad, and he had just been waiting for someone to stop him. Waiting, just waiting, to be put away, to be locked away somewhere where he couldn't hurt anyone.

Tom Riddle had known from a young age that he was different in a bad way, that there was something wrong with him, that maybe he shouldn't want to hurt people or he shouldn't be  _ able _ to hurt people in the ways he was capable of.

It created a small cold space in Hermione's calm, that disturbing knowledge. Tom Riddle, the child, had disturbed her greatly, and yet she  _ still _ felt sorry for him. Why? Did she relate to him on some level she didn't even want to admit to herself? He had been an awful creature in that orphanage, young and terribly dangerous even then.

_ Even now, _ Hermione thought savagely, packing away her cleaning kit with slow movements that had no connection to the storm of feelings that felt like they were ravaging her insides. As soon as she stood Hermione swept in the motions she had practised over and over again until they were flawless, to even Severus' exacting standards. She hadn't been good at knife fighting right away- but she had learned to be good at the forms. Severus had even remarked a hundred times that she had best wish that her opponent hadn't learned the same forms she had because then every combination she made would be known to them.

Severus. She wanted to talk about this, about her conflict, but if there was one subject that was taboo between her and Severus it was the Dark Lord. He was never referred to as anything else, just 'the Dark Lord.' The Dark Lord was displeased, he punished, he planned, he rejoiced. Severus spoke about him in the monotone of report delivery, or on the rare occasion, with spitting rage.

It was times like this Hermione wished she had a friend that was just her own, that she could share things with. She wanted what Harry and Ron had, an easy understanding that could sink into depths untold alarmingly fast.

Hermione was well aware that the relationship between her and Ron was taut and barely formed. From the beginning, there had been a quiet and shared knowledge that Ron's cruelty had almost cost Hermione her life. It had been there in Ron's eyes when he made himself the knight, it had been in hers when Ron had been dragged into the Shrieking Shack by a large black dog.

They were bound together by Harry Potter. It was as simple as that. They did homework together, they joked (sometimes cruelly) and there was an odd love that came with familiarity. If something happened to Ron, Hermione would be sad. If he disappeared from her day-to-day life, she would miss him. She held some affection for him, he held some affection for her.

But with Harry, there was a complicated network of guilt and blood debt and love and resentment. Ron had put her life in jeopardy; Harry had jumped on the troll's back. Harry had saved her from being friendless, he had given her his friendship and Hermione had returned it tenfold. In those first years, before everything had been complicated by secrecy, she had harbored a strong and desperate affection for Harry James Potter.

This fellow child who had been through so much- losing his parents, living with awful guardians, learning that there was a Dark lord out for his blood- was so quiet, so unassuming, so kind. He had decided that Hermione Granger would be his friend and she had been slotted seamlessly into their group.

And then she had freely chosen to leave normalcy behind for his sake. To protect him, to win the war. There was resentment there, Hermione knew, resentment and thanks and guilt.

Her muscles had started to burn long ago but now sweat was dripping into her eyes, Hermione closed them, trusting her knowledge of the room to avoid bumping into anything. It was just the thump of her heartbeat in her ears and her own ragged breathing.

Harry Potter wasn't even Harry Potter, it seemed. In the scar on his forehead lived a portion of an awful soul, the soul of that boy who had been proud of hurting people and animals, not the boy who had saved a girl from a troll.

She had to find a way to save him.

Her own life had been wound around Harry Potter's for too long. Messy black hair and green eyes made her chest do funny things- she didn't want him hurt, she didn't want anyone to hurt him, she wanted him to succeed.

So, eyes closed, she just fought against her invisible enemies, felling them one by one.

* * *

The Safe House was curiously empty when Severus arrived. The lights were off in the kitchen and there was no fire roaring in the sitting room. When he checked Hermione's room it was empty- but her cleaning case was missing. So she was in the practice room. Severus felt a light smile slide on to his face at the prospect of maybe sparring with her.

When he slipped off his shoes at the door and entered, Hermione was practicing the knife forms he had taught her with her eyes closed. He watched her critically, frowning.

"You're getting sloppy, my dear," he said sharply when she nearly misplaced her foot.

Hermione hadn't heard him come in- she did misplace her next move and she fell, a comical expression of surprise on her face. "Shit!"

Despite years of practice, Severus could not keep the smile from his face, nor the laugh that rose from his chest. The glare she sent him made him laugh harder.

"It's not funny, Severus!" Hermione snapped, but she had a grin on her face too. "That hurt!" She stood gingerly, rubbing her bum.

He gave her a wicked smirk. "Want me to kiss it better?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up to the top of her forehead. "And if I said yes?" She walked toward him, sheathing her knives in one smooth motion.

When she came close enough to touch, Severus hooked an arm around her waist and drew her in. She smelled like hard work and clean sweat, evidenced by the beading of perspiration at her hairline. He bowed his head, wrapping his arms around her. Hermione's arms slipped around his neck, and she looked up at him, a playful smile on her face. It changed quickly to a surprised expression as two large hands cupped her firm bottom, caressing it lightly.

"I'd say you would be getting in over your head," Severus whispered, lifting her up and gently pressing her to the wall so that they were almost eye level.

Hermione gave him a throaty laugh. "I'd say you were probably right," she admitted ruefully. "But you can give me a kiss anyway."

He did so carefully, stroking the side of her face. When Severus pulled away, there was a small smile on Hermione's lips. It was a warm feeling to know that he had put that there, that he had made her smile, the kind of feeling that rose from the belly to spread in the chest.

"How did your meeting with Dumbledore go?" he asked. "Is he still mad about the stunt you pulled with Potter?"

He almost regretted asking when the small smile fled, to be replaced with a frown. "Not exactly. He shared information with me- so much information, Severus. I'm not completely sure, but I think he is a bit relieved to be finally sharing it with someone, to get a second opinion. He always plays his cards so close to his chest... it must get lonely to be the only one who knows everything sometimes."

Severus snorted. "He gets off on it. He likes being the wise one with the plan."

His answer was a quick kiss on his lips, and Hermione slithering out of his arms. "Maybe. And you? What did you do with your day?"

His arms felt empty. "Plenty," he drawled, folding his arms to lessen the feeling. "I went to see Draco."

Her eyes widened and she copied his stance unconsciously. "Do tell."

Severus looked around, frowning. "Not down here. Let's go up to your office." He crossed the room to the door, opening it for her. "After you, my dear."  _ That _ particular pair of words had been slipping from his mouth with alarming frequency lately.

Hermione smirked at him, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically. "Why thank you, love."

"Pet names don't suit you," he told her, closing and locking the door. "Or me."

"Nonsense," Hermione said, her eyes dark in the room. "I love it when you call me your 'dear’. So don't stop."

_ Oh? Duly noted. _ Severus grinned- he couldn't help himself. "Let's get up to your room. I have a lot to tell you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 39!
> 
> I'll see you on Wednesday! I love all of the comments and I promise I will answer ALL OF THEM soon! I've been so crazy busy with apartment stuff but hopefully I'll have a minute soon!


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! 
> 
> Ok, I promise I'll get to all of your amazing comments today. Promise. Life has been absolutely nuts, but I promise.

**_Chapter 40_ **

Severus woke suddenly, feeling the thumping of his heart heavy in his chest. His chambers in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were still and dark- not that there was anything other than artificial light down there anyway. With a practiced wave of his hand, Severus lit the candles that were on various stands throughout the room.

The nightmare had been one that had once been familiar, but had faded with the introduction of other horrors into his life. There had been a time just after his initiation where the nightmare of getting the Mark had been behind his eyes every time he closed them, but now, more than two decades later, it had been left to only once or twice a year.

Just thinking of his Dark Mark and the initiation ceremony made his left arm twitch. Severus scowled down at the Mark, looking at the snake moving sluggishly under his skin. If there was a part of himself he hated above any other it would be this Mark, not his hair or his skin or his teeth but this foreign and disgusting tattoo that was more than simple ink. No, it was magic, vile and insidious, terrible magic that linked him to the Dark Lord for the rest of his life.

Well. He knew what had brought it on. Draco Malfoy, his godson, taking the Mark before he had even turned seventeen. At least the potion Severus had brewed had kept him from the worst of the pain.

When he checked the time Severus found that even if there had been windows in his dungeon bedroom they would have been black- the sun hadn't risen yet.

There were two choices before him- go back to bed and try to sleep or do something useful with his time. Severus chose the latter as he almost always did when the dreams got too bad.

Belting a black dressing gown tightly around his thin waist, Severus left his bedroom for the kitchen. A pot of tea would do him good. Well... a pot of tea and three drops of the potion he had just recently perfected. He would need to be alert for what would happen later.

If he was going to talk to Draco successfully, he would need to be alert and focused, not tired. There was too much at stake- Hermione's life was not something Severus was ready to toy with.

It was a curious thing, to be torn between the boy he had sworn to protect and the woman he loved. Hermione Granger was more important than almost anything- but would he hurt Draco if the boy was going to hurt Hermione? Could he find it in him to hurt the white-blond child he had held as a babe?

Who was he trying to kid? The answer was a grim 'of course.' Severus had killed and killed again- people he knew, strangers, people in the awkward stage in between. He would kill to protect Hermione Granger and, unfortunately, Harry Potter.

His mind started to clear with the help of the potion. There was much to be done during the day- a meeting with Draco, hopefully away from his mother. Narcissa could, at least, be handled with more ease than say, her late sister or her husband. The only question was where to take Draco to talk in peace that wouldn't be suspicious. Malfoy Manor probably had more listening spells than wards on it, now, and taking him to Spinner's End wasn't the best idea.

It would have to be at Hogwarts, and therefore Severus would have to have an excuse of some kind. Bringing him through the wards the first time was bad enough, but it couldn't really be helped.

If it couldn't be helped, then Severus would need to tidy a bit. His rooms weren't a mess, per se- but the house elves hadn't cleaned the dishes, and there were at least three abandoned teacups in the sitting room, accompanied by various towering piles of books.

Severus sipped his tea and sighed, looking out at the mess. He would call a house-elf and it would be taken care of rather quickly.

He snorted. No, he wouldn't. He couldn't stand the idea of the little creatures going through his things. With a nasty scowl at the dirty dishes, Severus drained the last of the tea and set his mug down with a sense of finality. Time to get to work.

* * *

The boy sitting before Severus Snape did not look much different than he had a week before. At first glance, at least. Severus could see the trailing shimmer of Glamours hiding what must have been dark under-eye circles from lack of sleep and a slight tremble in his godson's hands which told him that, more than anything, Draco Malfoy was nervous in his godfather's presence. As they drank tea and discussed things of no import the trembling lessened slightly, solidifying the seemingly unbreakable Malfoy facade.

The talk petered out before long, leaving an uncomfortable silence. For Draco, at least. Severus used it to his advantage, quietly sipping what remained in his mug. The boy fidgeted, and, as expected, broke first.

"Why did you want to speak to me here, Uncle Severus?" he asked. Draco tried for a haughty look- it would have succeeded if the shimmer of the Glamours hadn't been evident when he tilted his chin up.

Severus set down his teacup. "I wanted to check up on you. Are you pleased with having taken the Mark?" He let his question hang before gesturing around at the room. "What is said here remains between the two of us. The Headmaster can't hear you- and the Dark Lord will not either. If your mind's defenses are strong, at least."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What are you on about?" The fidgeting stopped though, and he froze. Draco Malfoy was definitely listening.

Severus gave him a terse smile. "I believe you know exactly what I am 'on about,' Draco."

"And what do you want me to say?" Draco said angrily, glaring at his godfather. "Uncle Sev, I can't trust anyone right now. Not even my mother or my real uncles! And you want me to trust you?"

Severus nodded. "You are a Slytherin at heart, Draco. I doubted it when you were young, but you are beginning to come into your own now, outside your father's shadow. You were born into the game, you've seen it played all your life. Tell me what you see now. Let me hear you make your decision. Trust me... or not."

"And why should I trust  _ you? _ " Draco sneered. "You've got one foot on either side of this war."

The boy was entirely rigid, in stark contrast to the way Severus was draped over his armchair. "That's exactly why you should trust me," the Potions Master drawled. "I can help you and you can help me. That is, if you want to pretend that this exchange is completely devoid of the sentiment mere mortals feel after having known each other for nearly seventeen years. Your entire life- I believe I was the third person to hold you as a child, Draco, and one does not take that lightly. As your godfather- in blood, by the ritual- I have no reason to wish harm upon you."

Draco frowned. "The ritual?"

Severus raised one lazy eyebrow. "Your parents never told you? I suppose it would be something of an embarrassment to have a half-blood be godfather to the scion of one of the purest families in Magical England. But yes, the usual ritual was completed. I did the potions myself- your cord blood, your mother's blood, your father's blood... all were entrusted to me."  _ And I didn't use it all. Insurance, so to speak. _

"No, I didn't know," said Draco, clearly discomforted. "Why?"

"Because I saved your father's life and he saved mine," Severus explained. "There were favors given and owed on both sides. Then there was the helpful chance of me being elevated to the Dark Lord's right hand shortly before you were born, and my close ties to your mother. And I knew the ritual- the Prince family on my mother's side had blood as old and pure as yours. Add to that the fact that I would be at Hogwarts to watch over you as you grew and hide any youthful indiscretions as your Head of House, as well as influence the rest of Slytherin House in your favor... it was a wise choice on the part of your parents, if I do say so myself. And out of it, I got a permanent tie to the Malfoy family and a chance at having something like a child of my own without actually having to put up with a child."

There was no perfunctory laugh or grimace, just Draco's pensive face. "So I was being used as a pawn in the game even then."

"Everyone is a pawn and pureblood princes even more so," Severus drawled. "Don't worry- since then you've been upgraded to a rook, perhaps."

"And you?" Draco asked. "Are you a pawn?"

Severus gave a sharp smile. "A bishop. Or a knight."

"Or a queen?" Draco asked. "The black queen or the white queen?"

Severus stroked his chin absentmindedly, thinking the metaphor through. "I am actually interested to see how this metaphor plays," he murmured. "Dumbledore is the chess master on the white side of the board, the Dark Lord on the other. The white king would be Potter, the white queen, Granger." For the moment, at least, Potter wasn't the strongest piece, but the piece that needed to be protected at all costs. And Hermione- Hermione was the one who protected him. Who could do the things he couldn't, move in ways he couldn't.

"And their knight would be Weasley?" Draco asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Severus gave a sharp bark of a laugh. "Weasley is barely a pawn. The only reason he has that much importance is his value to Potter."

Draco let a small smile slip on to his face at that. "So Granger is the white queen..." he mused. "Why? She's just a Mudblood."

Severus was unable to stop his fist clenching reflexively to the word, but luckily Draco's eyes didn't see that. "That's what she wants the world to think. But you aren't an idiot, Draco. Think about Hermione Granger- why would you be told to kill her if she wasn't anything but a simple girl?" Draco opened his mouth, but Severus spoke over him. "I said to think, and that takes longer than half a second."

The mouth snapped shut. Silence reigned over the room for a few ticks of the clock as Draco stared at the fire. He twisted the heavy Malfoy family ring on his finger as he thought, the dull old metal catching the light in a strangely hypnotic way.

"She's always been at the top of the class," Draco said slowly, as he if was still sorting his thoughts. "Smart, no one can doubt it. A close friend of Potter's- but only after something happened that Halloween. Someone said something about the three of them fighting a troll but I didn't believe it."

"You should have," Severus said flippantly, ignoring the way Draco's eyes widened. "But continue."

Although his pale eyebrows had nearly merged with his hairline, Draco continued. "She punched me, our third year. That told me she was stupid enough to punch a pureblood, with our laws the way they are. She tried to save that hippogriff. All around golden girl until last year, really. Went into that maze came back all bloody. My father asked questions about her then, like a bloody interrogation."

"All your classmates, anyone who might know anything about her, were subjected to the same treatment," Severus told Draco, his tone conveying that his 'bloody interrogation' was nothing particularly special. "What else?"

Draco sighed in frustration. "I don't know? She follows Potter to the Ministry and accidentally winds up killing my aunt. Which Aurors and Azkaban have been trying to do for the last couple of decades."

_ It's staring him right in the face and he doesn't even see it.  _ "Which tells you  _ what _ ?" Severus snapped. "I'm starting to revise my opinion on your lack of idiocy."

An ugly flush suffused Draco's face, going down past his collar. "That she's good with a wand?"

"Do you really think that the Dark Lord would be concerned with creating a particular mission just to kill a girl who accidentally killed your aunt?" asked Severus sharply. "Use your brain, boy!"

Draco was starting to look less composed and more confused. "He wouldn't? I thought Auntie Bella was his favorite-"

"It doesn't matter," cut in Severus. "One person, no matter how valued they say they are, is actually cared for by the Dark Lord. That's lesson number one, Draco. The Dark Lord cares for no one; everyone is expendable. You, your father, me, Bellatrix. If she had been killed during a successful mission, he wouldn't be half as furious as he is now. He thought she was amusing because he liked her taste for the sadistic and took pride in the fact that he could have a follower so devoted she would fatally injure herself if he told her to. At the same time, she frequently annoyed him and he found that level of devotion pathetic. No, you haven't been told to kill Hermione Granger just because she 'accidentally' killed your aunt. Not that it was an accident, anyway."

The furrow between Draco's brows deepened. "Not an accident? Granger couldn't kill someone on purpose!"

Again, the short bark of a laugh, lacking any humor, left Severus' mouth. "Granger has killed more people than you have, and in cold blood. And younger than you too, I think. In the graveyard, during that summer, in the Ministry, at least four deaths can be credited to her and probably more. Revise your opinion, and present again."

"So she's dangerous," Draco said, twisting the ring even faster. "So the Dark Lord wants me to kill her to get her out of his way."

"Correct, finally, and in more ways than one," Severus replied. "Do you think you are evenly matched to Hermione Granger?"

Draco nodded at once. "Yes."

"Then you are stupid," Severus snapped. "Because she can beat me two times out of five on a good day. How many times have you bested me in a duel?"

The gape-mouthed look was not very attractive on Draco's face. "Wha- no. That's not possible, I've never beaten you! And since when do you duel Granger?"

"It is possible," retorted Severus. "I'm not lying to you right now; I have no reason to lie.  _ Listen  _ to what I'm telling you. Put all the facts together!" Severus was sure that part of his annoyance was stemming from the fact that his usual conversation partner was Hermione Granger and she would have put all the information together ten minutes ago. He was forced to remind himself that his godson wasn't thick, he was actually quite bright, but any teenager compared to Hermione Granger was, quite frankly, an idiot. How he had put up with them for the last twenty years, Severus did not know.

When Draco moved to talk again, Severus held up a hand. "Don't say a word," he said, his voice taking on something like a threatening tone. "I said I wanted you to think, so  _ think. _ Silently. If that's too difficult, list all the facts aloud."

Although it deepened the red in his cheeks, Draco complied. "Hermione Granger is dangerous, I'm outmatched, and yet I have to kill her."

"And do you think you will succeed in your mission?" Severus asked.

The realization drained some of the color out of Draco's face. "It depends," he said slowly, "on my motivation. What happens if I fail?"

"You sacrifice your freedom, your life, and perhaps the lives of your parents," replied Severus promptly. "Certainly the pride of the house. The Dark Lord successfully punishes the Malfoys, who haven't been able to do anything right. Lucius gets captured, Draco can't kill a Muggleborn girl... no one will think the worse of him for it and no one will envy the person who gets your task next."

Draco swallowed hard, his hands finally still. He was no longer playing with the ring- he was thinking hard. "And if I succeed?"

"You've probably imagined the scenario a hundred times by now," Severus said, aware that his voice was taking on a mocking cast. "Your family honor restored, your father proud, your mother proud, the Dark Lord proud... Status, respect, appreciation. It's wrong. You will have removed an enemy of the Dark Lord, you'll have more blood on your hands, and you will have redeemed your family for the moment. Until he is displeased again. And yet, the task was simple enough that if you brag about killing Hermione Granger, they will think you are stupid for thinking a victory against a Muggleborn chit is something to be proud of. There will be no status, no respect, and no appreciation."

There were no outward signs of distress as there would have been on Hermione. She would have bit her lip, perhaps, or tugged her hair. Draco just went still, the pulse in his throat jumping like a frightened animal. "So he's set me up," said Draco under his breath.

"The Dark Lord is the consummate Slytherin," Severus said quietly. "You, not even of age, had no chance of seeing his long game. You could only see half the board."

Draco glared bitterly at his godfather. "And you could see it all?"

Severus gave him half of a wry smile. "The benefit of playing both sides."

The mercury eyes of the scion of Malfoy House regarded Severus with a moment of clarity. "If you play both sides, you can win even if one loses," he murmured. "Or you can fall with one side. It all depends-"

"On how well you play the game," Severus finished.

"And how well do you play?" Those eyes seemed to stare right through him at that moment.

And yet, it was only a moment and then Severus had shaken it off. "Well enough." _ I don't know if I can win anymore. I'm in too deep on both sides. Hermione- Hermione would be the only one who would care. And if the Dark wins... well, then there wouldn't be a Hermione and I'm not sure I'd want to be somewhere she wasn't. _

"Teach me," Draco said, the note of begging in his voice hidden just under the commanding tone. "Help me."

Severus watched him carefully, allowing the pause to stretch before responding. "Then answer my question. Are you pleased to have taken the Mark? Answer honestly- I'll know if you don't."

Draco scowled. "Bella taught me Occlumency before she died."

"There are other ways to know if someone is lying," Severus said tartly. "It is your final chance, Draco. Answer."

The boy in the chair glared at him. "What do you want me to say, Uncle Severus? That I'm delighted to be tied to that- that  _ thing _ that doesn't even look human? That I am happy to be bowing and scraping to a half-blood in my own home, the ancestral seat of pureblood Malfoy power for the last eight centuries? That I want to kill one of my classmates or get killed  _ by _ her? It wasn't supposed to end up likes this. This  _ fucking _ thing on my arm disgusts me and I know I'm stuck with it for the rest of my life, however short it may be."

Severus waited a moment to see if there was more, when there was not he leaned forward in his chair, bracing himself on his knees. "I am going to offer you something, and I will only offer it once," Severus said quickly. "You know I play both sides. Would you like to take some control over the game?"

Draco sat straight up in his seat. "That's treason," he whispered.

"Not quite," Severus said. "Technically, it's double-crossing. Here is how it works: You come before select members of the Order of the Phoenix, telling them you've changed sides. You want to help them. I will vouch for you, they will not trust you but they will accept your information."

Draco was rapidly paling. "I have to give information?" he asked. "That is treason, Uncle!"

Severus shook his head, returning to his former position. "You give information. You help them... and they help you."

"How could they help me?" Draco spat. "Bunch of filthy-"

Severus flicked his hand at Draco, sending a spell to silence him. "Hush, boy. You need to get to Granger, or risk the lives of those you care for. The Order can provide you with access to her- I can provide you with access to her." He waited a moment, then lifted the spell.

Draco was frowning. "They won't actually let me kill her," he said. "So what's the point?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "The Dark Lord will be displeased if you go long without making progress. So you poison her, the entire school sees it, everyone thinks she won't make it- and she miraculously survives. You couldn't have expected it, no one could. The Dark Lord sees that you were bold, that you almost succeeded, he knows you are trying. You make another attempt- she escapes again. Your other brothers will be trying to steal the limelight, will be trying to get to her themselves, but all of them will not even be able to get close to her. It will buy you time."

"And time is the only thing I need right now?" Draco asked sarcastically. "I think I need a bit more than time. Like to go back in time and get this thing taken off my arm!"

"Unfortunately, you know that can never happen," Severus said flatly. "But what if I told you the Order was looking into ways to remove or neutralize Dark Marks?"

There was no spreading of hope on Draco's face. "I'd say you were lying."

"Not quite," Severus said, nodding at the boy. "But they will be, if I ask them to. Especially since the Dark Mark has a link to the Dark Lord. What I am asking you is this: are you content to play the game with blinders on, or do you want to change the rules? Are you a pawn or not?"

This speech had been calculated very carefully to hit each one of Draco's weaknesses- he was a teenaged boy, so appeal to his ego. Appeal to his House pride, to his pride in his family name, to his arrogance. Severus knew exactly how to play him in order to get the response he wanted.

Draco's eyes flashed dark. "Not," he said in a low voice. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing, yet," Severus answered, keeping a pleased expression from his face. "Hide this conversation under as many layers of Occlumency shields as you can. We will discuss this more when school begins again, and you aren't in such close proximity to the Dark Lord. Just know that you made a wise decision. Salazar Slytherin would be proud."

* * *

Hermione whistled softly after Severus shared his morning with her. "Wow," she said, rubbing the back of her head. "You are the master of this."

Severus gave her a pleased smile. "I know," he said loftily. "And you could never hope to match me." His uncharacteristically playful attitude made Hermione smile, even as she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"And thanks for using me as bait, by the way," she retorted. "I'm sure I'll find being poisoned or attacked marvelous fun."

"My dear, it is for the Greater Good," Severus said solemnly, in an imitation of Dumbledore. "What is a few days with fever and vomiting if it means one poor soul will be saved?"

She stuck out her tongue. "Don't get me started," she said with a sigh. "I have to bring Harry back to watch the memories, and then we are going to have to start hunting down these Horcruxes. And we need a portion of memory from a man who altered his- do you know Professor Horace Slughorn? Apparently he was a professor while Riddle was at Hogwarts."

Severus' eyebrows snapped together. "Yes- he was the Potions Master when I was a boy. And the Head of my House. Had his little Slug Club- I was only invited when he saw my skill in Potions. He never really liked me, though- Black and Potter were more up his alley. Charming, handsome, talented..."

"You are all of those things," Hermione said softly, going to sit next to him. She leaned her head against his arm. "Well- maybe not charming in the classical sense. You do have your own kind of snarky charm after one gets over the fact that you are, without a doubt, a bastard of the highest degree."

"I know very well who my father is, thank you very much," Severus replied tartly, putting an arm around her carefully. "I didn't get this horror of a nose from my mother alone."

Hermione stretched up to press a small kiss to the tip of his admittedly long nose. "I like it anyway," she told him. "What should I call you, if not a bastard? An arse? A git? A dungeon bat?"

"It didn't take you long to come up with those," remarked Severus. He was making a determined effort not to feel hurt, but it wasn't quite working.

Hermione laughed softly. "You have Ron to thank for most of them. He's not your greatest fan."

"Oh?" asked Severus. "And who holds claim to that title?"

"It's a secret," Hermione said, tapping him lightly on the nose. "But back to business. You need to give me your report on what you've heard from our spy network, and then we need to go over the plan to take Harry to Dumbledore."

* * *

Number Four Privet Drive was still bathed in the same muggy heat that had held its residents captive the last time Hermione had visited Harry. The same Order member who she had Obliviated last time was posted in the park, sweating profusely as he pretended to read a Muggle newspaper.

Petunia Dursley opened the door at the first knock, giving Hermione a dour look as the witch stepped inside. She was wearing a light pink sundress decorated with small blue flowers- it seemed oddly homey, unlike the fancy clothes the woman usually tried to wear.

Hermione had her answer for the change in a moment. "Vernon is on a business trip, if you want to stay here," Petunia ventured, without even a greeting. "He wouldn't bother you."

Surprised, Hermione took a moment to answer. "We have an appointment with the Headmaster, so we won't be staying," Hermione replied. "But thank you."

The woman sniffed and went up the stairs, calling for her nephew. Harry practically flew down the stairs, grinning when he reached Hermione. "What's all this about, then?"

Hermione returned his smile and hugged him. "You have a meeting with the Headmaster. We'll be off now- we can't Apparate in here or we'd set off the Ministry wards."

"What time will Harry be back?" asked Petunia.

Hermione glanced at her watch. "I have no idea," Hermione said truthfully. "Don't worry about food- he'll be getting lunch and dinner with me. If you want to go to bed and we're not back, just leave the door unlocked. No one would be able to come into your house, not with the wards around this place."

Harry and Petunia looked surprised. "What?" asked the woman. "I can't just leave my house unlocked-"

"Yes, you can," Hermione interrupted. "There is magic in this place to stop anyone with bad intentions from entering. In fact, no one can enter unless they are keyed into the wards or are welcomed inside."

"That'll explain why we've never had the door-to-door salesmen round here," Harry said thoughtfully.

Hermione nodded. "Exactly. But it shouldn't be a problem- I expect that we'll be done in the afternoon and I'll take Harry for some dinner before we come back."

The two teenagers left the house, turning down the block toward the park as if they were going for a walk. Harry couldn't wipe the smile off his face- anything that got him away from the Dursleys during the summer made him happy.

"So what's going on?" Harry asked cheerfully. "I thought we were supposed to do this a while ago."

Hermione nodded, her serious face an odd contrast to her companion's light-hearted mood. "It was, but something came up. A bad something, Harry. I can't tell you now, but maybe later." She held out a hand, grabbing his jacket and stopping him in the street for a moment.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, a thread of wariness creeping into his tone.

_ How to explain this? _ "You are going to be receiving a lot of important information today, Harry," Hermione warned. "Have you been practicing your Occlumency exercises like I've told you to?"

Harry nodded earnestly. "Yeah. You said I couldn't get more information until my Occlumency was up to snuff." His wide green eyes met hers with a total lack of guile.

She did as she had done so often before, slipped into his mind with a slight pressure of her will. It was effortless, gliding through his thoughts like a fish through water, until- a wall. A strong one, but one she might have missed if she was only trying to peruse his surface thoughts.

Harry frowned, trying to close his eyes as she held him captive with Legilimency. Finally, when she was satisfied his wall was strong, she pulled away. "Good," she pronounced. "I think you're ready."

"What the hell!" Harry said in a harsh whisper. "You can't just invade my mind like that, Hermione!"

Patting his arm, Hermione began to walk again. "Then keep me out next time," she told him firmly. "But. Back to what I was saying. Today is going to be a kind of information overload. If you feel like it, we can go to dinner at the Weasleys, but if you would rather be alone or have some quiet time to think, we can go somewhere else."

The Apparition site was at the end of the next road they turned down, an abandoned park that was rather overgrown with trees. It was the perfect spot because the trees hid their Apparition from view, and any sound made by the Apparition was far away from the neighborhoods.

They were nearly at the park when the skin at the back of Hermione's neck prickled. It wasn't a physical reaction as much as it was a sensation; the eerie feeling that someone was behind them and watching them. Harry felt it too, apparently- one hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it absentmindedly.

Hermione picked up her pace slowly, withdrawing her wand so the handle was comfortingly heavy in her hand. "I think we are being followed. Keep calm."

Thankfully Harry was smart enough not to whirl around and look behind them, but he did stiffen slightly. "What do we do?"

Hermione laughed loudly enough so that it would carry to their shadow, ducking in close to Harry and linking her arm with his. "We get ready. I would have liked to be behind trees before Apparating but I don't think it can be helped."

A jet of red light, a Stunner, singed the hair on Hermione's head just as she began to turn. She had dodged it just in time- as she and Harry spun away and were compressed into time and space, she saw their attacker send three more spells into the space they had just inhabited.

The duo landed in a field not far from Hogsmeade, hearts beating fast. "What the hell was that?" Harry demanded, leaning over and bracing himself on his knees as he waited for his breath to come back.

"Death Eaters, I'd bet," Hermione replied, short of breath herself. Her concentration had been off while Apparating, and the trip had been more jarring than it normally was. "Fuck."

"You can say that again," said Harry, standing straight. "Hogwarts, now?"

Hermione frowned- she wanted to go after their attacker, go back and hunt him down to make sure he wouldn't carry back anything to his master. But she couldn't leave Harry to walk to Hogwarts alone. "Yeah. Give me your arm. I'll Apparate us closer. This was a bit farther than I wanted to be."

The linked arms and with another twist they were off again, a much smoother and shorter journey. The tightness in Hermione's chest barely lasted a moment, and they had landed properly, right before the gates of Hogwarts.

McGonagall was there, waiting to let them in. The old Scottish woman smiled to see them. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. A delight to see the two of you. Where is Mr. Weasley?"

Hermione gave their Head of House a broad smile as she and Harry crossed the threshold of the ancient castle, feeling the safety of the castle's wards settle around them. "This a trip just for Harry and me," she answered kindly. "The Headmaster wanted to meet with Harry and asked that I bring him."

McGonagall chatted with them about a variety of things as they made their way to the Headmaster's office, their voices echoing through the empty halls of the castle. Harry was experiencing the same sense of unease that Hermione had the first time she had visited the castle over the summer. The emptiness was disarming, especially when the only time the halls were this bare was the middle of the night during the school year. Even then the castle breathed with students sleeping and teachers patrolling and ghosts wandering around their various haunts.

When they ascended the spiral stairs and entered Dumbledore's office, McGonagall gave Harry a long look, then patted him twice on the shoulder and left with a warm goodbye. It was affectionate for her- Hermione knew that Minerva McGonagall had suffered long and hard at the hands of Voldemort and his followers and to see hope in Harry was the only thing that kept her going some days.

"Harry, Hermione, it is an absolute pleasure to see you," Dumbledore said warmly. "I trust your trip was uneventful?"

Hermione cleared her throat, stepping forward. "Actually, Albus, we were attacked. I got us away in time, but they know that Harry lives somewhere in that neighborhood. I don't think it's safe for him to go back."

The reaction she had been expecting wasn't the one she received. "Then he won't. I'll ask Molly if he can stay at the Burrow. I think a quick trip to pack wouldn't go amiss."

The joy on Harry's face was heartbreaking. "Really? I can just- leave?"

Dumbledore's sharp gaze turned to Hermione. "I have the feeling that if I refused I would get an earful from your protector. You can stop by the Dursleys this afternoon to pack, and then make your way to the Burrow. Now. Let's get down the business. We will begin with this memory, from Mr. Odgen of the Ministry of Magic..."

* * *

Hermione leaned against the wall of Harry's room, watching as the boy methodically shoved his belongings into his large travelling trunk: shirts, books, robes, trainers, owl food, socks, parchment and ink, and a scattering of other odds and ends. He moved with slow precision, half lost in thought. Since they had left the Headmaster's office, he had been quiet, almost uncharacteristically so.

Well, it wasn't her place to break him out of his thoughts until she needed to. Instead, Hermione inspected the small bedroom. There was a good-sized window that had once held bars, but was now open to the night. Hedwig had already left for the Weasley's, leaving only her empty cage on the worn desk in the corner. The desk was scattered with newspapers and half started letters. It was a messy clutter, with the dirty birdcage on one end and the papers and a chipped mug with one pen and once stub of a pencil on the other. Harry's closet door was wide open as he transferred clothes into his trunk, and she could see the remains of what had to be Dudley's broken toys at the bottom. Harry's bed was unmade, a mess of sheets and a light blanket.

"I'm done," Harry announced, closing his trunk with a definitive clunk. "I'm ready." He stood, but didn't make a move to leave.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked gently. "It's a lot to take in."

Harry crossed his arms defensively. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. But I guess I'm fine. I just need to think about it. Can we tell Ron?"

Hermione shrugged. "It's up to you. I don't think Dumbledore would have a problem with it. But I would wait until we were back at school, so the three of us can discuss it together. I think it would be best if Ron was under the assumption it was my first time hearing this information."  _ Instead of my third, _ Hermione finished in her head.

The slight frown that had been lurking on Harry's face deepened. "Aren't you going to tell him about- well, about you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Not unless it is absolutely necessary. He doesn't remember much from the Ministry and I want to keep it that way."

"Why?" asked Harry. "It doesn't feel right to lie to him."

Hermione bit her lip. "I know, Harry. Ever since all of this started it hasn't felt right not to tell the two of you everything. But I had to put my feelings aside in order to make sure that you were safe. If I had my way about all of this, neither of you would have ever figured it out. The way-" she paused. She hadn't expected the nearly overwhelming rise of emotion that was pressing at her throat. "The way you sometimes look at me nearly breaks my heart, Harry. I never wanted to be anything more than a friend, and I didn't want you to ever treat me like anything less or more."

She had been staring at the floor- a dingy, untied trainer came into view and then Harry had flung his arms around her. Startled, Hermione wrapped her arms around him as well.

"I still trust you," Harry murmured in her ear. "It was just a shock." He was too thin- she could feel his ribs and hear his heart pounding in his chest.

Hermione closed her eyes slowly, clinging to her best friend. "Thank you, Harry."

"I saw what you went through, remember?" Harry added. "And you told me. You gave up everything for me and I can't thank you enough."

Hermione clung to him a moment more, then pulled away gently. With a careful hand, she patted down his hair, a brief maternal gesture that she had done a hundred times before. "Of course you can. Are you ready for the Burrow?"

Harry gave her a wry grin. "Is anyone ever ready for the Burrow?"

_ No, _ thought Hermione. "I suppose we have to go anyway," Hermione said. "Come on- we can Apparate from here now that Dumbledore set it up. Do you want to say goodbye to your aunt?"

"Not particularly," Harry admitted, linking his arm with hers.

"Got a firm grip on your trunk?"

"Yes."

Hermione smiled at him. "Then let's go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 40. 
> 
> Just a heads up to everyone - this will get a bit steamier over the next few chapters. I'll be adding some tags for forewarning soon. I'm not super familiar with the AO3 tagging system (I started my fanfic days at ff.net) so if anyone has any suggestions for tags I should add that would bring more readers, let me know!


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Thank you all for your patience - by the time I started replying to comments, I had about 45 to go through which was my absolutely top favorite problem I had last week!
> 
> This chapter is where things start getting a little racier, just so you all know!

**_Chapter 41_ **

The Burrow was its normal cacophony of noise confined in its impossible architecture. As Hermione helped Harry drag his trunk inside, the noise washed over her, prickling against her skin. She took a steadying breath, then braced herself.

"Harry!" shrieked Molly's voice. "It's wonderful to see you!" Harry was pulled against the woman's bosom, squeezed, then held out and appraised. "Too thin. I'll be making some fattening foods for you, my lad."

Hermione was the next to be swept up in a quick hug. "You too, Hermione. You're staying for dinner, I hope?" Hermione wasn't quite certain, but she thought she detected something in the woman's voice. _Something is wrong here._

Hermione forced herself to smile warmly. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley." _I don't know what it is now, but if it's my business I'll find out sooner or later._

Ron and Ginny flew down the stairs, Ron clapping Harry on the back a few times and Ginny hugging him nearly as tightly as her mother. Harry was grinning ear to ear as the twins emerged from the kitchen, alternating in their speech as they greeted Harry.

Before she knew it, Hermione was seated at the table with an over-large plate of steaming dinner in front of her as the people around talked and chattered endlessly. At least this time Bill and Fleur had managed to snag seats next to each other- but still, Molly had placed Cedric (who had Floo'd in at Molly's invitation) directly across from Fleur and right next to Hermione.

 _It's not as bad as it could be,_ Hermione thought, resigned. She began to eat, tasting the good food but not thinking overly much about it, or the conversation flowing around her. Instead, she thought about Tom Riddle, and Severus, and Horcruxes...

They needed to get to Slughorn, that was obvious. But what else? Hermione knew that the answer was lurking somewhere in the stacks of books in her bedroom, but she only needed to be there, to read-

"Hermione!" Ron's voice was exasperated as if he had been trying to get her attention for a while.

It was almost like a spasm running through her body as she jerked to attention. "Yes?"

The redhead rolled his eyes. "I was asking if you were going to stay here too. If so, Gin needs to clean up her room."

Ginny smacked his arm. "It's nothing compared to how your room was this morning, Ronald."

 _No doubt about it,_ Hermione thought wryly. "No, I'm not, at least not until later this summer. Dumbledore will let me know, I suppose."

"See, Ron?" Ginny snapped. "No need to mention my room."

"You should see Hermione's," Cedric said suddenly, flashing Ginny a charming grin. "It would make you feel better."

Ginny gaped at him as Hermione glared. "Little Miss Perfect Prefect Hermione has a messy room?" she asked, with exaggerated astonishment. "How do _you_ know? Did Hermione actually let a _boy_ into her room?"

Hermione turned her glare on Ginny. "My two best friends are boys, Ginny. The only reason they don't burst into my dorm in Hogwarts is because of the magic stairs."

But Ginny wasn't done- she burst into laughter. "I can't believe it. How messy is it, Cedric?"

"Papers and books everywhere," Cedric said, throwing a teasing glance at Hermione. "Hardly a place to put a foot down. The house-elves are banned, but Dobby would give all the socks in the world to clean it up."

 _Stop. Just- just stop._ Hermione put a hand over her eyes, trying to calm down. Her annoyance was rising higher and higher, and as Cedric opened his mouth again, Hermione held up a hand, pinning him with her eyes.

"What the bloody hell were you doing in my room?" she asked sharply, her voice ice cold.

Cedric's smile faltered. "Well- I haven't been in it, exactly, just seen it when you've gone in and out-"

"Then what right have you to comment on a living space that you have not been invited into, and you shouldn't have been looking at in the first place?" Hermione snapped. "Did you stop to think for a moment that those papers and books are _important?_ Or maybe that they are private and I don't want people knowing about them?"

Ron and Ginny were staring, and Harry was looking down at his plate, his cheeks red. Bill and Fleur had stopped their conversation, and were looking at Hermione and Cedric.

"Um- sorry," Cedric muttered. "I didn't think it would be a big deal- just books and papers."

Hermione took a calming breath, then gave him a small smile. "They aren't a big deal," she said quickly. "So forget about them." She had no way of knowing her smile was far less comforting than she had wanted it.

Cedric grinned back anyway. "Yes, ma'am."

The tension seemed to suddenly dissipate. Ron whistled. "Geez, Hermione. No wonder no one wants to date you."

 _Like that isn't hurtful at all,_ Hermione growled in the privacy of her own mind. _Ouch._

Other people had the same reaction; Ginny hit her brother's arm again and Bill kicked him. "Ron!" hissed Ginny. "There isn't any reason to be rude."

Bill's eyes flickered toward Hermione, then back at his brother. "You should apologize for that," he said.

"Especially since you aren't right," Cedric added, hastily coming to her defense- apparently, he saw a way to make it up to Hermione.

Hermione felt her blood freeze. "What are you talking about?" she asked Cedric, keeping her voice low. "What-"

"The other night, remember?" said Cedric, glancing at the rest of the table, but keeping his voice low. "When you were going into the bathroom and there was a hi-"

"Yes, I remember," Hermione said hastily. "Oh. Yes. Well. Could you forget about that too?"

"Forget about what?" Ron said, irritably. "Sorry, Hermione! Okay? Can everyone stop abusing me now?"

Harry shoved him lightly. "No, you prat," he said. "Now pass the potatoes."

Hermione ate quickly, accepting Molly's offer of dessert only out of politeness. She wanted out of this place, out of the noise and the questions and the sense of being _wrong._ She wasn't like them, they weren't like her. They didn't understand her, didn't know about her, and even if they did they wouldn't know how to handle her. All she wanted in that moment was Severus, or perhaps Tonks.

Tonks had always been a good friend, especially when Hermione had first started along the crazy path to becoming Harry's protector. They had been the only young ones in the house- they had giggled together and practised and Tonks had been kind. Very kind, to a Hermione who sometimes missed her parents terribly or couldn't get a spell right.

 _I should go visit her in the hospital_ , Hermione thought wistfully. _I'll do it on my turn around._

"Time to clear up!" Molly announced. "Ginny, Fleur, Hermione, some help, please."

With a sigh, Hermione and Ginny pushed themselves away from the table to help Molly with collecting the dishes and cleaning them. Fleur gave Bill a quick kiss and stood as well, calling to Molly with a flip of her long, silvery hair, "Really. Ze boys could 'elp with ze dishes too, you know."

Molly frowned at her. "The men have been working all day. We will clean." With that, she thrust a stack of plates at Fleur and pointed to the kitchen.

"Salope misogyne et coincée," Fleur muttered, sweeping out of the dining room. Hermione hid a laugh behind her hand. Uptight bitch was certainly one way to describe Molly. As far as misogynistic went- Hermione was afraid she had to agree as well.

With magic, washing dishes wasn't quite the chore it was the Muggle way. There were charms that took all but the most stubborn food off dishes, charms to dry, and charms to make them all float to their place. However, Molly Weasley was one housewife who prided herself on not letting the charms do all the work for her. As a result, Hermione and Ginny were set to rewashing the magically cleaned dishes- or rather, Hermione was washing and Ginny was drying.

Although it was the chore she despised the most, Hermione let herself relax into the methodical movements. At least there wasn't any food left on them- it was just scrubbing with soap and then rinsing the water off and handing the dish to Ginny.

"You've been quiet, Hermione," Ginny said suddenly, taking a large serving platter from Hermione. "Is everything okay?"

Hermione bit her lip, scrubbing at a cast iron pan that didn't need the scrubbing at all. "Not really," she admitted finally. "But that's all I can really say at the moment. I'm handling it, though."

A comforting hand rested on Hermione's shoulder for a moment. "Si t'avais à besoin de quelque chose à tout moment, je suis ici. Hermione." Fleur's earnest face was close, her beauty startling and reactive in Hermione. To be quite frank, Fleur took her breath away. _I hadn't thought that I might be attracted to women,_ Hermione thought dizzily, nearly disregarding Fleur's offer of help. _Or is it just that's she's gorgeous?_

"Merci," she said after a moment, smiling at Fleur. When the woman gave her a brilliant smile back, Hermione almost laughed. "What happened to no French?"

Fleur gave a laugh like tinkling bells. "I forgot."

A loud bang came from the dining room, the noise sharp like spell fire. Half a heartbeat later and the smell of acrid smoke was filling Hermione's nose. Other sounds- the plate she held crashing to the floor, Fleur's gasp, Ginny's shout, the running water, the thump of her running feet- all of them fell away.

Hermione had her wand out, one hand pulling a knife free, when she burst into the dining room. Smoke clogged the air, but it was rapidly being dissipated through the open window. Instead of the shouts or spell fire she had expected, everyone was laughing- except for Ron, who's eyebrows were missing. The twins were nearly bent double- it had been a joke, a _prank,_ not war, not spells.

Her heartbeat wouldn't slow down though, even as she quickly sheathed her wand and knife. Molly's disapproving eye caught hers before Molly glanced at where Hermione's knife had been stowed. There was a wrinkle of worry between her eyebrows, a small frown on her mouth.

 _Fuck,_ thought Hermione, even as she forced a smile to her face, tried to laugh at the prank. _I need to get out of here._

Slowly she went back into the kitchen, trying hard to calm her breathing. Fleur was holding up the dish Hermione had dropped, checking the work she had done to repair it. "Eet is fine," Fleur announced. "I expect eet was ze twins?"

"It was," Hermione replied, nodding. "Um- Gin? Are all the dishes done?"

Ginny checked, and nodded. "Yeah. Except for-"

"Good," Hermione said brusquely. "I need to go. Now. Tell Cedric that I - that I am taking the Portkey and he can Apparate, would you?" She left through the garden, ensuring the curtains were closed before she Apparated away with a hushed pop.

* * *

"I saw them!" hissed Molly, her eyes wide. "You were completely right, Cedric!"

The Hufflepuff looked uncomfortable, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. "It's like I said, Molly. She's up to all kinds of stuff. She just left- I bet there's going to be something in the news tomorrow that she was a part of."

"And I talked to Mad-Eye," Molly continued. "He says- he said that he doesn't trust Snape, not one bit, and when I said that you said they were spending all their time together, planning, he got really quiet, Cedric. Said he didn't like the sound of that, not when he knows what the girl is capable of. He said that he'd be happy to talk to Headmaster Dumbledore with me."

"Talk to Dumbledore?" Cedric backed up a step. "But she's working with Dumbledore."

There was a quiet pause. Molly looked at Cedric mournfully. "But what if she isn't, dear? What if Snape's confused her? Something is up there. Dumbledore needs to know."

A burst of laughter drifted in from the living room, and Molly put a hand over her heart. "My children are in the Order, Cedric. If anything she's doing is putting them in danger, then it needs to stop."

"I don't really know what's going on, you know," Cedric hedged. "Really, Mrs. Weasley."

"Molly, dear, I already told you," the woman insisted. "Try to talk to her, Cedric."

Cedric sighed, and nodded. "Of course. I'll try to figure out what's going on."

* * *

When Severus stepped into Hermione's room, he was immediately met with a cloud of bushy hair under his nose. Two small arms wrapped around his waist, and Hermione's form was pressed against him firmly. A bit confused, he closed the door and returned her embrace.

"Although I am not totally opposed to being greeted like this, Hermione, it does concern me. What happened at the Weasley's?" He purposefully lowered his voice, knowing that she reacted well to warmer and lower tones.

Hermione sighed into his chest. "It's been a long day, Severus. I- I just needed to hold you for a moment. To be held."

His hand rose to cup the back of her head, stroking her hair comfortingly. Slowly he was growing more accustomed to Hermione, to her feelings, to her wants. Right now she wanted silence and comfort, and nothing more.

Or so he thought, until two small hands untucked his shirt, slipping under the fabric to touch his skin. Her hands were shockingly cold. He hissed, muscles clenching as her hands ran up and down his back.

"Hermione-" he began to say.

Hermione looked at him, tilting her head up. "Kiss me, please," she asked quietly. It was at once a demand and a statement- she knew he was practically helpless to refuse.

Severus lowered his lips to hers, holding her head securely with his large hands. His kiss was gentler than she wanted- Hermione dug the fingernails of one hand into his back and reached up to his hair with the other. With a growl low in his throat, he lifted her onto her desk, trying to find a position that wasn't going to kill his neck.

Still, she wasn't tall enough. Hermione didn't seem to mind over much after a while, pulling away to start unbuttoning his shirt.

She had only gotten through three buttons when Severus reached up, stilling her hands. "Where do you want this to go, Hermione?" he asked quietly.

Hermione stared at their hands, not at his face. "Farther than we've gone thus far," she responded. "Severus, I _want_ you sometimes."

"Why right now?" he asked. "What happened?"

Her eyes flashed to his, something unknown stirring in their depths. "Nothing important." She leaned forward, pressing a hot mouthed kiss to the side of his neck.

It took his thoughts away from the Burrow and back to the woman in front of him, the woman whose tongue had just flicked across the sensitive skin of his neck, who was trailing slow kisses down his neck to his shoulder, who nipped as his collarbone, who pushed his shirt off his shoulders- when had she finished unbuttoning it?- and who trailed her fingers down the length of his back. They felt like fire, those hands, trailing down his back gently. The scar tissue was oddly sensitive, and he felt self-conscious for a brief moment before he saw her face, how amazed she looked.

Severus knew he was nothing much to look at- he was strong, but his muscles were flat and ropy. His skin was pale, terribly so, which made his sparse dusting of black hair stand out starkly against his flesh. On his left arm, the Dark Mark pulsed malevolently the snake moving slowly under his skin. He stepped back, allowing Hermione to examine him with curiosity on her face.

"Stand still," she murmured, scooting back on her desk. Papers crumpled beneath her, but she waved a hand absentmindedly and banished them to a corner of her room.

Hermione lifted a hand, placing it right over his heart. Her palm was finally warm, her room was cold. She moved her hand, brushing it over his flat brown nipple. His breath hissed out of his mouth, and her eyes flicked to his face. A small half-smile played on her face, a smile that told him that she was revelling in this type of power over him. Slowly she trailed her hand, keeping it flat to his skin, down from his chest to his abdomen, feeling his muscles clench as her warm, warm palm touched them. Finally, she traced the thin trail of dark hair that started at his belly button, following it until she reached the waistband, curling her fingers under it. His cock, hard in his pants, twitched.

"Satisfied?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Hermione tugged him closer, arching up and winding her arms about his neck. "Very much so," she replied, her voice almost a purr. She pressed one kiss to the side of his neck, and then stretched farther and made it to his mouth, kissing him hard.

It felt so odd to be half-clothed in her presence, to feel the buttons of Hermione's sensible collared shirt against his skin. He grasped her waist tightly, his hands feeling almost too large for her tiny body. Cautiously he raised one hand to her breast, palming it gently. She made a small noise of either surprise or appreciation into his mouth, and he did it again, harder.

Their lips parted for a moment, long enough for her to gasp his name, as he lifted her from desk to press her against the closest surface: the door. Severus moved her against the hard surface gently this time, keeping her up by pressing his leg into her core even as her legs wrapped around his hips. He had never hated a skirt so much at that moment, all the material that was keeping him from feeling more than the barest hint of the warmth of that aching part of her. His cock was hard between them already- just from kissing her, from her hands on his skin, just from her lips on his neck and her hand so close to his cock and the feeling of her breast in his hand.

They were kissing quite eagerly, and Severus was thinking quite seriously about trying to unbutton her blouse, when someone knocked on her door. They both felt the vibration against the door, three insistent knocks.

"Hermione?" It was that _blasted_ Diggory boy, that fleckling, rotten, sarden, utterly inconvenient excuse for a wizard. Severus pulled away from Hermione harshly, looking her over quickly. "Are you okay? Could you open the door?"

"You told me nothing had happened," he hissed at her.

Hermione flushed, but wiggled away, darting to a mirror. Her hands were trying to smooth down her hair quickly. "I'll explain. Um- the closet, perhaps? Would that work?"

 _She's shoving me into the bloody closet?_ With a half snarl on his face, Severus folded himself into Hermione's closet just as she opened her door to Cedric.

"What's going on?" she asked, trying to catch her breath. It was obvious that she had been up to something- her cheeks were pink (they were never pink normally) and her breath was coming hard. Her shirt had been hastily tucked into her skirt, which was rumpled itself. Her hair was also a mess, but at least the explosion of curls hid the marks he was sure he had left on her neck.

Cedric frowned at her- he could see it hazily through a crack in the closet door. The handsome face, twisted in concern. "You left the Weasley's really quickly. I thought you might be upset after what had happened."

"So you came up here to check on me?" Hermione's voice was tight- not unfriendly but not happy either. He could see the line of tension in her shoulders. "That wasn't necessary, Cedric."

Cedric sighed. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Hermione?" There as a slight pause. "Maybe not in the hallway?"

Severus was hoping she wouldn't agree, but Hermione moved back and opened her door large enough for Cedric to slip in. With a low groan, he noticed his white shirt on the floor- abandoned there by Hermione when she had pushed it off his shoulders. Cedric noticed it just as Hermione did- he flushed slightly and looked away. Hermione scooped up the shirt, her mouth clenched tight, and folded it quickly before setting it on her bed.

"What is it, Cedric?" she asked, exasperation in her voice.

Cedric folded his arms across his chest, looking at her curiously. "What is it with you? Does my presence here really annoy you that much?"

Severus couldn't see what flashed across Hermione's face, but he did see how she hunched her shoulders in guilt and surprise. "No- sorry. You've caught me at a bad time, is all." Cedric's eyes flicked to the shirt again, then back to Hermione.

"Listen- I don't know what you're doing. I know it's important, but I don't know exactly what it is. And I doubt you want to tell me. But we are living here together, so I do see a bit of it. So I wanted to apologize for what I said at dinner, and for bringing up your personal life." The boy looked sickeningly sincere. _He brought up her personal life? What personal life?_

Hermione sighed, and a hand went to try to smooth down her untamable hair. He saw the small hand wind in her curls, tugging. "Yeah. Thanks. I know it seems weird that I would keep things from Harry and Ron, but there is so much that they don't know- that they can't know- that it would be better if you didn't mention things at all from now on, okay?"

Cedric grinned at her. "Will do. I'll keep it all hush-hush. And listen- I don't know what I did to piss you off, but could you maybe think about giving me a second chance?"

She sounded confused when she spoke. "You didn't do anything, Cedric. I don't know what you're talking about."

"So you normally glare at everyone you feel ambivalent toward?" the boy's voice was softly teasing. "Alright, then. See you tomorrow." He left, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Severus waited a moment before sliding out of the closet. He folded his arms across his chest, glaring down his impressive nose at Hermione. "So the nothing that happened at the Burrow was bad enough to bring Diggory down here?"

Hermione turned to face him. Her mouth had a mulish set to it, and her arms were folded just as tightly. "I said it was no big deal, Severus. Trust me, okay?"

"Except you lied the first time," Severus snapped. "What happened?"

Her eyes had flicked down to his chest for a moment, sparking a rise of irritation in Severus. He moved around her, snatched his shirt from her bed, and began re-dressing in quick, sharp movements. Hermione bit her lip.

"Nothing much, Severus," she insisted again. "You know Ron- he has no tact. He keeps saying rude things about me and then Cedric feels the need to jump to my defense even though he doesn't know what he is talking about- it's no big deal, really- Severus! Where are you going?"

He sneered at her as his coat snapped around him and he straightened his shoulders. "To go somewhere my time will be better spent. Collecting information, perhaps."

Hermione seemed to waver between wanting to ask him to stay and to let him go angrily. She had lifted a hand, but then she dropped it, going over to her bed and sitting down. "Fine," she said. Her voice sounded weary, just utterly defeated. "Go. Sorry. I'm going to keep going through all of these books."

Severus himself had been hesitating, waiting for her to ask him to stay. "Fine," he snapped back. "I'm not a therapist, Hermione. Call me if you have something important to tell me, not if you are going to use me to make yourself feel better."

* * *

St. Mungo's was a roaring mess of noise and color. In the summer a variety of health troubles could be found in the waiting room; Hermione identified three cases of dragon pox, what she thought was a botched self-transfiguration, and two and a half splinchings. There was a man in three sweaters and a wool jacket who was shivering desperately under a cooling charm he had mispronounced, his lips blue as he waited to be helped. In the corner sat three children playing a game of Exploding Snap, who appeared to have swapped noses.

Hermione wove through the crowd, finding the stairway with a sigh of relief. Too many people, too much noise, not enough peace. She was used to hospitals done the Muggle way, where quiet and attempts at peaceful shades of green and cream ruled, not that hodgepodge of crises.

Tonks was in a room off to the side, a private ward that was reserved for Aurors who had been injured in the line of duty. Hermione was given an odd look when she asked to see her friend, but was allowed in nonetheless.

Today the Metamorphmagus sported spiky dark blue hair and bright freckles. Hermione couldn't see her eyes, focused as Tonks was on the crossword puzzle from _The Daily Prophet._ The crossword had been a habit of hers from her time at Hogwarts, and Hermione couldn't count the times Tonks had looked up from the paper, frowned, and asked Hermione an obscure question somehow related to the magical world.

Hermione's boots clicked on the tile floor of the ward, alerting the Auror's sharp reflexes. Tonks looked up warily, but her face brightened into a smile and her hair to bubblegum pink when she saw Hermione. "Wotcher, Hermione!"

"Hullo, Tonks," Hermione replied, suddenly overwhelmed. Tonks seemed so genuinely happy to see her, despite all the time that had passed. The night before Hermione had gone to bed angry at Severus and alone and slimy from the soul magic on her skin after spending half the night reading.

Tonks pushed away the crossword, gesturing at the seat near her bed. "Sit down! Do you have time to stay?"

Hermione sank into the chair, one hand going to the thin gold chain around her neck. "Tonks, I have all the time in the world."

"You still have that, then?" Tonks asked quietly, regarding Hermione carefully. Her forehead wrinkled, then smoothed. "Don't tell me, actually. All of the Ministry's Time-Turners were smashed in the battle. A certain someone stumbled into them."

Hermione let her hand drift to the pearl she wore instead. "How awful. But I'm more concerned about you, Tonks. What happened? I got the report but I didn't hear from anyone who had actually seen anything."

Tonks shrugged, wincing as she did so. "My dear Auntie Bellatrix decided to be nasty and curse me."

"I've been cursed by her and it was miserable," Hermione said with a shudder. "If it hadn't been for Severus being right there I would have been brought here. As it was I still was bedridden for a week and a half and it still hurts sometimes."

"I heard someone got her for me, though," Tonks said. The tips of her hair had started to go violet, then blue, the sign that she was thinking hard. "I've heard some rumors, Hermione. Things that I wouldn't believe, except-"

 _If she's heard them, cooped up in here, I wonder if everyone has._ "Except you trained with me all that time ago," Hermione said with a sigh. _I can't get away from it even here. Have I pushed everyone away?_

The defeated tone of Hermione's voice must have been obvious. Tonks sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and clutching them as she looked at Hermione. "What's wrong?"

Hermione felt the tears pressing at the back of her eyes. Looking into Tonks' honest face made the pressure worse, so she looked away. "I came here to make sure you were alright, not to talk about my problems."

"I'm fine," Tonks said dryly. "If you had come a week ago I wouldn't have been as fine as I am now, but I'm all set, Hermione. They're discharging me the day after tomorrow, if I'm lucky. Then I can go home and be fussed over by my mum and dad."

Hermione buried her head in her hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "You're right- something happened yesterday and I needed to talk and realized I had no one to talk to. I missed you."

A friendly hand went to Hermione's shoulder, rubbing it lightly. "I've missed you too, you know." The admission was said with more somberness than Tonks normally spoke with. "I didn't begrudge you, you know. The amount of stuff you're doing, Hermione- I can't believe you're only sixteen. Or- however old you are."

Hermione lifted her head up taking a shaky breath. "Let's just say I'm closer to twenty than to seventeen," she murmured.

"You have a lot on your plate for someone who's been out of Hogwarts ten years, let alone barely finished their O.W.L.s," said Tonks. Her hair had settled into a serious dark blue. "It could be too much for anyone to handle sometimes."

"I feel so alone sometimes," Hermione said quietly. "There's so much I can't say to anyone. The only person I can talk to is Severus, and he's..." she let her voice trail off.

Tonks gave a short, sharp laugh. "Severus is as friendly as the Ministry is competent."

That made a smile appear on Hermione's face. "That's one way of putting it. But he's also the only one who gets it all- the fighting, the spying, the killing, the lying. I can't talk to Harry about it, or to Ron, or to Cedric or the anyone else, Tonks. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning under all the lies and the silence and I can't breathe or call out for help. And everything is so goddamn complicated right now and it would take a year and a half to explain it properly. Nothing is straightforward and nothing is clear and nothing makes sense right now."

"I'd ask you to spill but I think that the reason half of this stuff is driving you nuts is because you can't talk about it with anyone." Tonks was right- the words rang true to Hermione as soon as she had said them. "Either because it's too dangerous for them to know, or you're afraid of their reaction to them."

"If I told Harry some of the things I've done on his behalf, he would be horrified." There was no doubt in Hermione's voice. "I'm horrified at myself sometimes."

Tonks sat up straighter in her bed. "Listen to me seriously for a sec, Hermione. There's a difference between doing a bad thing just to do that thing or because it makes you happy, and doing a bad thing because something good will come of it. I know that there are people who stay shit like 'the ends don't justify the means' but the fact of the matter is, Hermione, that they do. So if you've killed a man to keep Harry Potter, the only hope for a sane future that we have, alive, then you were doing a good thing. The act of killing itself isn't good, but saving another person is. Protecting a child is good. Fighting the evil and wrong in this world is good. Understand?"

"I do in theory," Hermione said with a sigh. She looked up at Tonks, her eyes imploring. "But knowing something in theory and actually internalizing it and understanding it are two very different things, you know? I know there are some things I feel guilty for that I shouldn't feel guilty about, but I do anyway."

Tonks held up a hand. "I didn't say you shouldn't feel guilty about them," she corrected. "I don't think that the guilt ever goes away, unless you are one of those people who can brush off lives like they're nothing. But just be able to remind yourself that you were doing what you believed to be right, and it can stop the guilt from overtaking your life."

 _She's right,_ Hermione thought gratefully. "Tonks, I'd forgotten how absolutely wonderful it is to talk with you. My head feels less tangled now."

They laughed together. As the foreign as the laugh felt, trickling from her throat, it still felt good. "Is there anything else that's been going on? Boy troubles, perhaps?" asked Tonks teasingly.

Hermione's laugh caught in her throat and she started coughing. Tonks raised eyebrows that were changing from dark blue to a bright pink in surprise. "Really?"

 _Shite._ Hermione, still choking, couldn't control the blush that spread from her cheeks to her neck. _But what would the harm be in telling someone about... it? If I don't give names, if I don't elaborate..._

Now Tonks' hair was back to the bright pink of light-hearted teasing. "Who is it? Is he handsome? Is she handsome? Is it a Muggle?"

Hermione waved a hand, taking in deep breaths. "Don't ask too many questions," she warned. "I can't say anything about this one either."

Tonks frowned. "Why not? Love isn't a bad thing, Hermione. If it makes you happy, go for it."

"I'm not sure I'm entirely happy," Hermione admitted. "He's not very happy with me at the moment. It's bad timing, it's an odd match, and I'm not sure how this is supposed to work."

Eyebrows shot up on Tonks' head. "Do I need to give you the sex talk, Hermione? The birds and the bees? When Mummy and Daddy love each other very much-"

"Oh, hush you," Hermione said, shoving Tonks lightly. "Honestly. I've read enough books to know what goes where, thank you very much. It's just confusing, that's all."

Tonks settled back against her pillows. "First love is always confusing. But let's clear it up. Do you like him?"

"Yes. Obviously," Hermione said, blushing.

"Does he like you?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Why aren't you sure? Has he kissed you?"

Another blush preceded this answer. "Yes."

"Does it go deeper than just the physical stuff?"

"Yeah. A lot deeper, Tonks."

"That's a good thing," said the older woman encouragingly. "Now, the question is, why are you upset?"

"We're fighting," Hermione said after a moment. "I'm never sure of anything with him except that he knows more about me than I know about me, that I'm totally in love with him, and I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm not really sure he knows either, but I'm floundering in inexperience and miscommunication and we're just too close sometimes."

Tonks let out a low whistle. "Well. That seems like a lot. Love, really?"

"Yes," replied Hermione quietly. "And that complicates things. This relationship was never supposed to have started and I don't know how it's going to end or where it's supposed to go or what I'm ready for because he knows what he is doing and I have no bloody idea."

"I hope you don't mind me asking this," Tonks hedged. "But is he significantly older than you?"

 _What harm could it do? I've barely told her anything._ "Yes."

To Hermione's surprise, Tonks started laughing. "This isn't funny!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not laughing at you," said Tonks between giggles. "I'm laughing at the fact that we are flying on almost identical flying carpets here, my friend."

 _What? She's in a relationship with an older man?_ "I'm lost," Hermione said, frowning at her giggling friend. "You're saying that you are in some kind of relationship too? Last I heard from Molly you were single."

That stopped Tonks' giggles. "Unfortunately," she said, heaving a great sigh. "Mine isn't coming around as easily as yours is. In fact, he's refusing to admit that there are any feelings between us at all."

"Well, shite," Hermione said, leaning back in her chair. "I'd say spill all, but if you want to keep it private, I get it. I'm not telling who mine is, you don't have to say anything about yours."

"As long as you swear not to tell or react to this, I'll explain," Tonks said with a shrug. "I don't care if anyone knows I love him- enough people have noticed it already. I'm surprised you haven't, really. If you think back on it I'm sure you can figure it out."

Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow at her friend. "Is that a challenge?"

"Go for it," Tonks replied, gesturing for Hermione to go right ahead.

 _Who has been avoiding Tonks lately? t_ hought Hermione. _What guy has been acting odd around her? Or has she been acting odd around? At the last Order meeting, she was sitting next to Shacklebolt... and he's her boss which would make sense if he didn't want a relationship with a subordinate... and at the meeting before that, she was sitting by Mad-Eye- too old, more like a father figure than a lover, I'd hope. Why did I notice that? Why did the fact that she was sitting with those two men stick in my head? Because... because... because. Ah. Because the spot to Tonks' left is normally taken by Remus Lupin and it hasn't been in a while._

"Remus," Hermione guessed. "Him or Kingsley."

Tonks grinned at her. "Right on the money. Yeah. Remus Lupin kissed me and has refused to talk to me for the last.. three months? I didn't even get a card here in the hospital."

"At least he didn't make you believe he was in love with someone else, get mad at you for avoiding him, and then snog your brains out on your first kiss," Hermione countered. "I had no idea what I was doing."

"You never know what you're doing on your first kiss," Tonks said with a shrug. "At least yours sounds nice. Mine was slimy."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Ew. And with Remus?"

Tonks sat up, then flopped back onto her pillows dramatically. "He's a glorious kisser. Sweet, sensitive... it was right before the full moon, so a bit rough too..."

Although she had only planned to stay for forty-five minutes or so, Hermione was at St. Mungo's for more than three hours, just talking with Tonks. There was a lightness in her chest that stayed with Hermione for the rest of the day, even as she once again cracked open the dusty spines of the Dark Arts books in her room and steadily ignored Severus' absence from the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 41!
> 
> Oh Severus... he's not good at emotions, is he?
> 
> See you all on Wednesday! We only have about 20 more chapters already written - and then it's back to long update times! But comments and kudos always help with the writing process!


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!
> 
> This one starts to get a little racier, just so you know. And we have a surprise visitor... Thanks as always to my beta , Sorasradust!

**_Chapter 42_ **

"We are concerned," Molly said emphatically. "Albus, you have to listen to me."

The kindly Headmaster sighed. "Molly, Molly. Don't you trust me? I am telling you that Hermione Granger does not pose a threat to you or your children. She is working for the good of the Order."

Mad-Eye Moody harrumphed. "I've gotten a pretty good bullshit detector after working for years at the Ministry, Albus. You can't tell me that there isn't something odd going on here."

"She's just a girl-"

"She's just a girl you had me training to be at the level of a top Auror when she wasn't even fifteen yet," Moody snapped. "I knew something was wrong with that back then, but I thought she was a good kid. You know- that we could steer her in the right direction. But that Death Eater you keep as a pet has begun to corrupt her."

Dumbledore frowned. "Severus has my deepest trust, Alastor. And Hermione is not corrupted- she can think for herself. Quite well in fact."

The former Auror frowned. "Then that's worse, Albus. She's been doing things I doubt you even know about." Dumbledore saw his good eye flick to Molly. "Did you know she was killing Death Eaters instead of disabling them?"

It was a trap, pure and simple, and the only person who could have gotten away with it was Alastor Moody with all his cunning. It had worked out perfectly in his favor too- the opportunity had presented itself and he had taken it. Molly Weasley of all people was there. Dumbledore could try to Obliviate her but he couldn't get Moody at the same time, not with that man's level of paranoia. What was said was said and it had to be faced. There was only one way that Dumbledore could face it.

He let his eyebrows draw together with a snap. "Tell me."

Their story was drawn out, full of fluttering hands on Molly's part. Moody's eye rolled constantly, on high alert.

"You see, Dumbledore?" snapped Mad-Eye. "It's Snape. He cannot be trusted."

_ So that was his goal all along, _ Dumbledore thought with a sigh.  _ He wanted to get at Severus and Hermione was only a casualty. I cannot let that happen. _

"I understand your concern, both of your concerns," Dumbledore said slowly. "And rest assured I will address them. Give me some time to think about how to handle this situation." _ I think I have a plan. This just might work... _

* * *

Two sharp raps on her bedroom-and-office door startled Hermione out of the reports she was hunched over. A frown came to her face as she considered whether or not she could get away with ignoring the knocks, with pretending she wasn't in. But no, her lamp was spilling light from under the door. With a sigh, the witch stood, pushed in her chair, and opened her door.

Severus Snape stood there, a murderous expression on his face. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I haven't heard from you in three days," he snapped.

Hermione's gaze went from coolly polite to flinty. "I didn't have anything important to tell you. I thought you didn't want to be bothered with anything less than vitally important?"

Although Hermione could make her tone of voice and her face frosty, staring at an angry Severus Snape was like staring into a blizzard. "If you would move from your doorway, I have a report to give," he hissed.

Her own anger was starting to burn hot inside her stomach. What had he said to her last time? Not to use him like a therapist?  _ Well, that was exactly what he did when he came in here and slammed me against the door- so he's allowed to use affection to make himself feel better and I'm not? _

Hermione gestured to a chair, seating herself at her desk and removing a black notebook from the books arranged on her desk. "Whenever you're ready," she said, voice clipped.

He sneered at her. "There will be an attack on Amelia Bones sometime in the next month," he snapped. "Other targets too-" he handed her a list- "but she's the most important." He continued with his report in the same clipped tone of voice.

When he finished, she didn't meet his eyes, but continued scrawling in her notebook. He tapped his fingers on her desk in rapid succession, waiting for her to say something.

"Anything else?" was all the reply he got.

Severus' face tightened ever farther. "No."

Hermione sighed, rolling her neck. The muscles there were far too tight, too painful. "Alright then," she murmured. Her eyes darted to the clock before they widened in horror. "Shite. We're late for the Order meeting."

She flew out of her seat, darting to her closet. Disinterestedly, Severus noticed she was wearing Muggle clothes, a pair of shorts and a scoop-necked tee-shirt.

"You don't have time," he drawled. "Dumbledore will be pissed enough as it is." He offered her an arm. "If you'd like, I'll Apparate us through the illusion."

For a moment Hermione hesitated, then she nodded and took his arm. For a moment it seemed like he was going to kiss her, and then he turned on his heel and they were being compressed through a metal tube.

When they arrived, Hermione bent over double, gasping for breath. She felt queasy from the Apparation, and almost fell off the stoop of Number 12. Severus was instantly worried, and instantly tried not to show it. He was still upset with her- no coddling.

He yanked open the door, took her by the upper arm, and steered her inside. "Right yourself, Hermione," he said coldly.

To both of their surprise, the foyer was filled with people. It seemed that the meeting had yet to start- Dumbledore too was late.

Remus came over, concern on his face. "Are you alright, Hermione? What happened?"

Hermione yanked her arm out of Severus' grip, straightening resolutely. "I'm fine," she said, her voice shaky. "You know how badly I take Apparating out of the illusion." Her stomach was rolling terribly, but at least her breath had come back.

Still, the furrow of concern on Remus' face did not go away. He put an arm around Hermione, steering her away from Snape. "Are you sure?"

Hermione smiled at him, half of her mind more focused on trying to quell her queasy stomach. "Yeah, I'm fine, Remus. Just fine."

The werewolf patted her on the back lightly. "Good. Because you'll be getting a surprise in a minute." There was a playful grin on the man's face, on the first she had seen on him since Sirius' death.

But as glad as she was to see that Remus was looking happier, the news that she had a surprise didn't bode well with her. "Surprise?" she asked quizzically.

"Mad-Eye was saying something about it," supplied Remus. "Where did he go?" As he turned to look, the door in the foyer opened again.

Dumbledore had arrived, and behind him was a tall, slouching figure in a long cloak. "If everyone could make their way into the kitchen now," announced Dumbledore, "I apologize for being late but we really must start the meeting."

Everyone began to move toward the kitchen, but Hermione made a beeline for Dumbledore. Who was the person behind him? She hadn't cleared anyone recently to come to an Inner Circle meeting! The figure looked vaguely familiar, but only vaguely.

Snape too was frowning, and their eyes met for a moment in agreement. This was wrong, whatever it was. The clenched fist that had been Hermione's stomach for the last few days tightened. She didn't like being upset with Severus- maybe this wizard would be something they could reconcile over?

When most of the Order members were in the kitchen, Dumbledore nodded at Hermione and the man. "I have someone I'm sure you'll be quite eager to see, my dear girl."

The slouching man pushed back his hood. "Hermione," he said in a roughly accented voice. In his mouth, her name sounded like "Her-mi-own-ninny."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Viktor," she whispered. The man in front of her was tall, with a beak of a nose and sallow skin. He grinned at her. "You've been practising," she told him.

Viktor Krum opened his arms wide, and Hermione moved to hug him tightly. The sight of a friendly face after so long made tears come to her eyes. Viktor smelled good, like the night air outside and leather, and his arms were strong as he squeezed her tightly.

"I have been," he told her solemnly when he let her go. "I was not wanting to disappoint you when we met again."

Dumbledore chuckled, looking pleased as punch. "I know you usually screen new Order members Hermione, but I wanted to give you a bit of a good surprise before this meeting."

Hermione tore her eyes from Viktor to look at the Headmaster. "Will there be bad news at this meeting?"

"Not bad news at the meeting," Dumbledore hedged. "But I'll be holding a little - ah - gathering - at the end of the night, which I'd like both of you to attend."

When she looked at Severus, Hermione's heart dropped the bottom of her stomach. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to see it, but his hands were clenched and there was a tension around him and in his eyes that let her know he was furious. "I will be busy tonight, Headmaster," he snapped. "I've been telling you about this meeting for the last week."

Dumbledore patted his arm, making Severus stiffen. "I know, my boy, I know. Viktor, Hermione, meet me in my office after this meeting." He strode toward the kitchen, disappearing inside.

Viktor grinned at Hermione. "It has been a long time."

Hermione shoved her worry about Severus aside and grinned at her friend. "It has been. We'll have to catch up in person tonight or tomorrow, okay?"

He nodded solemnly. "Of course."

"The meeting is beginning," snapped Severus. "If you want to 'catch up,' then, by all means, miss what we came here for."

Hermione frowned at him. "No need to be rude, Severus." She turned and walked to the kitchen door, ignoring the black look on his face.

"I will be getting this for you," Viktor said quickly, coming around to her side and opening it for her. Hermione thanked him quickly, a slightly uncomfortable feeling in her belly. As soon as he could no longer see her face she let the small smile she had worn drop.

The room was full of Order members, all talking amongst themselves quietly. Hermione scanned the crowd, grinning widely at Tonks. The older woman grinned back, and waved. There was something off about it though- once again, she saw that Remus was sitting as far away from Tonks as he could physically get. Hermione sighed- he would have to get over that, and quickly. Next to Tonks was Mad-Eye Moody, and next to him was- hmm. That was odd- Molly Weasley. Normally she would sit on the other side of the table... Hermione had never known them to get along. Hermione took her normal seat with a slight frown. From the other end of the table, Harry waved as well, but Hermione hardly noticed.

Viktor pulled out the chair next to her, preparing to sit down, but Snape's soft voice stopped him in his tracks. "What do you think you are doing, Mr. Krum?"

Confused, the Quidditch star looked at the man. "Sitting down?"

"That is my seat," Snape said coldly. "I believe there is a chair open next to Mr. Potter, but I am afraid-"

Hermione stood, anger bringing blood to her cheeks. "Go ahead and take my seat, Viktor," she snapped. "I'll go sit next to Harry." She gathered all the reports she had brought with her, moving away from the table angrily not looking back at the two men.

_ Men. Stupid all of them,  _ she thought to herself.  _ Gods above. You'd think he'd know by now not to get jealous and you'd think that Krum would know by now that I'm not interested. That ship sailed a long time ago- more than two years ago for me now. We could have had something then but not now. He's a dear friend, that's all. _

She sat next to Harry, giving her friend a quick hug. "How are you doing at the Burrow?" she asked hurriedly. Dumbledore was surveying the crowd, but it didn't look like he wanted to start right away. People were still passing around reports- with a start, Hermione flicked her wand and sent a roll of parchment to each seat.

"I'm half convinced Mrs. Weasley wants me to gain a stone and half this summer," he grumbled lightheartedly. "But at least it's good food. Ron was right pissed that I'm here right now, though."

Hermione sighed. "Too bad. As long as he doesn't know I'm here it can't be that bad though."

The meeting started uneventfully- report after report. Remus had news about the werewolves, the people working at the Ministry all gave reports about their departments, and various plans were discussed. Hermione presented her information per the norm, ignoring the curious looks sent her way. It was all a very usual meeting, until the end.

"I have a mission of grave importance that I need completing by the end of the summer," Dumbledore announced, his eyes very serious. "Young people would be best suited to this task, I feel. This is of vital importance to weakening the Dark Lord, and may be very dangerous."

Hermione sat up, intrigued. She hadn't heard anything about this-

"Leading the mission will be Hermione Granger," Dumbledore said, nodding at Hermione.

_ What? _

Carefully, Hermione schooled her face into neutrality. She didn't want anyone knowing that she hadn't known about this from the beginning.  _ What the fuck? _

"Do I have any volunteers?"

To Hermione's surprise, Bill spoke up. "How long will it take?" he asked. "Because I've got a sabbatical from work to learn some new curse breaking stuff. As long as I come back with something I'll be good."

Dumbledore nodded. "Your skills would be invaluable to the group, William," he said happily. "Anyone else?"

Tonks sat up eagerly. "I'd love to go on a mission with Hermione." She shot Hermione a wink. "It'll be fun."

"This is a serious mission, Nymphadora," Dumbledore said, looking over his spectacles at her. "But I am sure that you will bring some of your unique charm to the experience."

"I go too," said a heavily accented voice. Viktor had raised a hand, looking at Dumbledore. "This is the mission for which you bring me here, yes?"

"Yes, indeed it is, Mr. Krum," replied Dumbledore solemnly. "And the last person I would ask accompany our four on their mission is Mr. Diggory."

Cedric's eyes went wide as everyone turned to look at him. "Um- are you sure I'm qualified for this?"

"You were the Triwizard Champion for our school, if I do remember correctly, Mr. Diggory," Dumbledore reminded him. "I believe that your skills will be well suited to this task. I will explain more tonight in my office. But of course, if you are not willing to go on missions, we will not force you to go. That is what separates the Light from the Dark, the Order from the Death Eaters."

_ Oh, poppycock _ , thought Hermione angrily.  _ We will not force you, my ass. No, you'll guilt or shame us into it. Or force us to make the decision when we are too young to know better. You bastard. _

"If Cedric does not want to go, then I'm sure we can find a fifth member with no trouble," Hermione called out in a clear voice. She did not know it, but her face was harsh as she evaluated Cedric. "I don't want any doubt in anyone's mind. Bill, would Fleur be able to come?"

"I'm sure she could take some time off," Bill began to say.

Cedric cut in suddenly. "No- I'll do it. I just wanted to make sure I won't hold anyone back, that's all."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together, giving Hermione a look. "Very well, then. The five of you, meet me in my office tonight after the meeting. In one hour, perhaps, so you have time to take a cup of tea. Excellent. Does the Wednesday after next work for everyone for the next meeting?"

Everyone made sounds of agreement and began to rise from the table. Several shrunk reports and tucked them into pockets. Hermione grinned with pride- it was her spellwork that allowed Shrinking Charms to be applied without damaging the integrity of the spells that kept them private. She rose at the same time Harry did, stretching quickly. Her back always ached after staying seated for such a long time. The popping noise from her joints made her wrinkle her nose.

"Ouch," said Harry, frowning. "Are you alright?"

"Just too many nights spent hunched over my desk," Hermione said ruefully. "I have an awful crick in my neck."

Two warm hands were suddenly on either side of her neck, making Hermione jump. "Where is it hurting, Her-mi-own-ninny?" His fingers were calloused and short, so different from Severus' thin long hands. As Viktor's thumbs pressed into the sides of her neck, Hermione met Severus' disinterested- or contemptuous?- stare from across the room.

Quickly she shrugged out from Viktor's grasp. "It'll go away eventually," she said uncomfortably, well aware that her cheeks were bright red. "I'm so sorry, but I have something to take care of quickly. If you boys will excuse me?"

Without waiting for their answer, she ducked into the crowd, then up the stairs. The library was only a flight up, and she took the stairs two at a time. Once she was safely ensconced in walls of books, Hermione took out her wand and tapped her watch.  _ Come to the Library. _

Time seemed to drag on. It had taken less than two minutes for Hermione to get to the Library. What was taking him so long? Four minutes passed, then five, then six, then ten. Where she had decided to wait was apparently the natural life section, telling from the book she had plucked from the shelf in a half-hearted attempt to appear busy when Severus arrived. Everything in the Black Family Library was old and valuable, except for half the books. The worn leather couches had elaborately carved feet, the wooden tables were made out of expensive and sturdy woods and boasted their own carvings, and the shelves were neatly and magically labelled and constantly changing. Examining the heavy furniture was enough to keep her occupied for a good five minutes.

After twelve and a half minutes, Hermione's patience was gone. She set aside the book she had been paying no attention to and stood angrily. She knew her cheeks had to be bright red with emotion- when she lifted a hand to touch them, her skin was overly warm. Hermione only ever got like this when she was really upset.

"Going somewhere? I thought you wanted a meeting." Severus' drawl was low and mocking. His stride was quick and powerful as he came into view, the impatient walk of someone who is just humoring a subordinate. "Something important to talk about, I'd hope. You know I don't take kindly to girls wasting my time." His words were biting and purposefully so.

Hermione could feel the tears building behind her eyes. Taking a deep Occlumency breath, she pushed them back. "I don't want to fight with you, Severus."

His eyes flashed. "If you want to quibble about romantic matters, now is hardly the time-"

"It is," Hermione said harshly. "I don't want you to leave here to go to- to  _ his  _ side angry with me, Severus." Her lips were pressed in a thin line, from anger or worry she didn't even know.

"Hush," Severus hissed. "We're not discussing that here-"

"I protected the area, Severus. I'm not an idiot," Hermione snapped back. "We can and will talk about this here and now."

They were in the nook that was closed in on two sides with bookshelves, with a wall at its back. Hermione had been curled up in the armchair, but now she was standing, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Severus was echoing her position, although it looked far more impressive on him. He scowled down his impressive nose at her, and she glared up at him.

"Usually when you go off and go to the meetings I know that at least the last time you saw me I made sure you knew how I felt about you," Hermione said quickly. "We are fighting and I don't exactly know why. I just know I want it to be over and I want you to be safe."

Severus' face was harsh in the low light of the library. Shadows had never done him any favors, and the sudden anger on his face made it worse. "You used me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that how you feel about the other night?"

"The one when you decided that you just needed a warm body to-"

"To make myself feel better?" Hermione interrupted. Her voice was as hard as she could make it. "Yeah. That's what I did. I had had a crap day and I had to listen to people imply I wasn't sexy or desirable and I wanted to remind myself that you think about me in that way and you care about me in a way that makes none of their words matter. Is that so wrong?"

"I don't like being used," he began.

Hermione snorted. "Bullshit. I wasn't callously using you for my own gratification, Severus. I was reassuring myself that we had what I thought we had. How is what you did when you found out about Draco's task any different?"

His face changed in an instant. "I was afraid I was going to lose you."

"And sometimes, I am afraid that I am going to lose you," Hermione said, her tone softer now. She moved closer to him cautiously, putting a hand up to cup his cheek. "And you are so, so important to me. I couldn't bear losing you."

His own hand rose to cover hers. "Don't you know how many of those boys want you, Hermione?" he asked hoarsely. "That damned Krum- he puts his hands on you like you're his and half the Order is sure of it. He looks at you like I am afraid to look at you sometimes. What is an old Death Eater compared to a Quidditch star with a considerable fortune and with whom you've already had one relationship?"

"It was hardly a relationship," Hermione murmured, moving even closer to him. She could feel the rasp of stubble under her hand, and it made her crave him. "You and Dumbledore made sure that was over before it even really began. Just one night of dancing and a peck on the cheek."

Severus bent to kiss her lightly. After days without him, the feel of his lips on hers made Hermione quiver and arch into Severus. One of his hands went to her lower back, pressing her into him, and the other went to her cheek to hold her in place. Hermione wound both arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Their mouths moved together desperately for a few moments more before Hermione pulled away.

"You know that you're it for me, Severus Snape," she reminded him. "So I'm not very happy when you're upset with me."

"I don't like being upset with you either," Severus whispered to her. "And I don't like this mission that Dumbledore has suddenly thrown on you. It doesn't sound right to me."

They remained in the embrace, although Hermione turned her head to press her cheek to Severus' chest. "I don't like the sound of it either. He hasn't mentioned anything about it to me before today and then he springs it on me at the meeting- to be honest, Severus, I think it's partially revenge for what I did with Harry."

The warm arms around her tightened at the thought. "Be careful." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Be safe."

* * *

Bill, Cedric, Tonks, and Viktor were all talking by the troll foot umbrella stand when Hermione descended the stairs. Tonks was buzzing with barely concealed anticipation, her hair flicking between shades of hot pink. Bill was smiling fondly at her. His demeanor was much calmer. Cedric looked nervous, on the other hand, tapping his fingers impatiently on the side of his arm.

Krum's face brightened when he caught sight of Hermione. "Our fair leader," he said jokingly. "What is this mission about?"

It really was lovely to see him again. Despite his duckfooted walk and beak of a nose, seeing his smile made Hermione return it with warmth. "I'm not exactly sure myself," she admitted, walking to stand next to Krum. "Apparently Dumbledore doesn't want to tell me anything anymore. I didn't even know you were coming, Viktor," she added, poking his iron-hard side. "And you didn't tell me either!"

His grin turned sheepish. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

Cedric gave a quick chuckle. "You have to be careful when surprising Hermione, mate."

"Are we all ready to go?" Hermione asked, raising a hand to tuck a curl behind her ear. Every time she kissed Severus it seemed that she got long-fingered hands tangled in her hair, enough to make it look like a rat's nest. "It's not quite ten yet but I'd rather be early than late."

"Yep," Tonks said cheerfully. "Am I going to have to call you boss now?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose as Bill guffawed. "I'd rather not."

"Sorry, boss," Bill said with a wink, slinging an arm over Hermione's thin shoulders. "You're stuck with it. Let's go see what the old man wants us to do."

* * *

"This is a mission of the utmost importance," said Dumbledore solemnly, peering at the group over his half-moon spectacles. They were seated on an oddly mismatched assortment of fluffy chairs, sipping from mugs of hot chocolate. Hermione had discreetly Vanished her cupful and replaced it with water soundlessly - she didn’t feel in the mood to be dosed with a light Calming Draught. "Before we begin, I'd all of you to swear on your magic that you will not elaborate on the parameters of your quest to anyone who is not in this room."

The group looked at each other, slightly uneasy. Swearing on one's magic was dangerous- one unintended mishap and they would be Squibs forever.

Hermione sighed, and raised her wand. "I swear upon my magic and my honor as a witch that I will keep the secrets revealed in this room. After I leave tonight, no word of what happened will pass from my lips to the ears of those who have not also heard it." She felt her magic rise in her, leaving her skin as she said the words and then sinking back into her skin as she finished. It was uncomfortable, the sensation of her magic momentarily parting from her.

The others in the room all followed suit, raising their wands and murmuring the words one by one. When they had finished, Dumbledore nodded and thanked them.

"Very good," he said, pleased. "Now. Hermione, do you remember our discussion some time ago about the items that were extremely important to Tom Riddle?"

_ The Horcruxes, _ Hermione thought. "Of course, Albus," she replied.

He smiled at her. "Your mission is to find and destroy as many of them as possible. Research where they are, take trips to those locations, defeat whatever guardian is defending them, and bring them back here once they are destroyed."

Hermione sank back into her seat, eyes wide. "But we hardly know anything about them!"

"That is your task, and one I hope you can complete satisfactorily," Dumbledore said sternly. "At your disposal you have a curse breaker, an Auror, the best student Durmstrang had to offer who also has international connections, and your own brainpower."

"And me?" asked Cedric suddenly. "Why am I here?"

The Headmaster peered over the rim of his glasses at the man. "I believe you were the Triwizard Champion for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, my boy. And you are a Hufflepuff."

The skin between Cedric's eyes wrinkled as he frowned. "And?"

"And Hufflepuffs are good finders," said Dumbledore with a note of finality in his voice. "Hermione, you may share what you know with the group- to a limit- so that you may attempt to find as many of these items as possible. I suggest a planning meeting sometime this week, so that you may get started as soon as possible. If you will meet me here tomorrow morning I will give you the intelligence that I have gathered and pass those sources on to you."

Hermione nodded, rubbing the back of her neck. "Alright, Albus. What time?"

"Nine should suffice," he replied. "And we should be through by lunchtime."

"Very well," Hermione said, getting to her feet. "I'll be here tomorrow morning at nine, Albus. I believe it is time for me to get busy."  _ I now have a mission to plan and briefing files to prepare. On top of everything else I have to do.  _ "The rest of you- does three o'clock work?"

When they nodded she left, leaving the rest of her team in the office.

* * *

The door to her room creaking open didn't wake the girl who was slumped over her desk. The lamp was still on, sending light into the dark hallway and illuminating the barely controlled chaos that was Hermione's desk. Piles of reports were stacked high, the ink still gleaming wetly on a few. Her cheek was pillowed on her arms, and her curls had fallen haphazardly over her face.

Well, the door opening didn't wake her, but the minute Snape set foot into her room, Hermione jolted awake. A streak of red light hit the door frame above the man's head. He ducked the second spell, grabbing his own wand.

"It's just me, woman!" Snape hissed, closing the door behind him. "Merlin's balls!"

Hermione blinked, rubbing her eyes. "You scared me, Severus!" She laughed weakly, leaning back in her chair. "Sorry, love."

Severus glanced at the lightly smoldering door frame, a wry grin starting to come over his face. "I suppose I should be glad you only used Stunners. If I had been you, I wouldn't have been so nice." He shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on the hooks attached to the back of her door. "I didn't know you were sleeping. My apologies."

"I didn't mean to be sleeping," Hermione said regretfully. She stood and stretched, yawning widely. "I guess I was just a bit tired. My task is going to be a nightmare." She went to Severus, who leaned down obligingly to give her a peck on the lips.

She closed her eyes out of habit, just taking him in. Hermione loved being this close to him, loved the way he smelled. Severus had just showered- understandably, as he had recently returned from a meeting with the Dark Lord. His skin smelled like  _ Severus _ , like sandalwood, like herbs and smoke. His lips appeared thin and hard but they were surprisingly soft when they were pressed to hers so chastely. It felt so right. She smiled against his lips.

A warm hand cupped the back of her neck and Hermione opened her eyes. Hers met his- dark grey and possessive. The feeling of the long, strong fingers curling in her hair made Hermione's belly clench.

"I've missed you, Hermione," Severus said in a low voice. She could feel his lips, barely moving against hers. "Even when I was angry I wanted you so badly."

The tension was growing, pulling at her. There was a fizzing feeling in her belly and in her head, something that was between fear and anticipation. She had never seen him like this before, had never seen him looking so hungry for her.

Keeping eye contact, Severus kissed her chastely again, then slowly sucked her lower lip into his mouth. He swiped his tongue across her bottom lip. The innocence of the kiss was contrasted with the hand holding her firmly by the back of the neck and his other hand, that had slipped under her shirt and was caressing the skin of her waist.

Slowly, drawing it out, Severus released her lip. "The question is, Hermione, if you want me..." His hand drifted higher, and Hermione sucked in a breath. "As badly..." He turned them, so that her back was against the wall. His knee and upper thigh nudged at where her legs were loosely pressed together. "As I want you?"

Hermione stared up at him. "Yes," she whispered. As soon as the word had left her mouth, he was kissing her furiously. His mouth and tongue were claiming hers, his body was holding her up against the wall and his hand was rising higher and higher, brushing up her side to cup her breast over her bra.

She moaned- she couldn't help herself, especially after his mouth moved from hers to her neck, kissing and biting and sucking. Her own hands were trapped against his chest- boldly she began to unbutton his shirt, her fingers surprisingly quick.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Hermione?" His mouth had moved to her ear. His hot breath puffed against the shell of her ear.

In response, she pushed his shirt from his shoulders. It settled on the floor gracefully.

The hand that had been cupping her neck left the warm skin and curls to go to her waist with his other hand. She had changed when she had gotten home, changed into a v-necked tee-shirt and pyjama shorts. It would be easy, terribly easy, for him to simply pull her shirt over her head.

He did it in a fluid motion once she raised her arms for him. The cold air hit her bare stomach, making Hermione shiver. Severus tossed the shirt carelessly behind him, but one of his hands stayed at her wrists, pinning them above her head.

His eyes were dark as they met hers. They were waiting, waiting for her.

_ Yes, _ she told him.

This was surreal. Her hands were above her, both her wrists easily contained by one of the Potion Master's much larger hands. He was standing before her in all of his glory, bare-chested and powerful. Even though his torso was crisscrossed with scars and old injuries, she still drank it in hungrily. Here she was, her back touching the cold wall, wearing only a dark blue bra and a pair of pale blue shorts. Her Time Turner was nestled between her breasts with her keys, and the pearl he had given her was settled into the hollow of her throat. His upper thigh was between her legs, holding her up. She wanted to touch him, she ached to touch him, to have contact other than the place where his hand was holding her wrists. But she waited, desperate to see what he would do.

And so she told him yes.

A small smirk lit upon his face as his eyes left hers and instead went to her hands, down her arms, across her shoulders and then down her breasts.

"Beautiful," he murmured. His other hand rose to her face, his fingertips brushing her cheek. They didn't stop there, trailing down her neck to trace her collarbone. Severus slipped a finger under the strap of her bra, sliding it down until the place where the strap met the cup. A blush burned Hermione's cheeks- there was a little white bow there, which seemed terribly childish all of a sudden. Thankfully he moved on, passing his hand over to the other side of her chest. "Truly beautiful." Carefully he lifted the chain that held the little hourglass from her neck, settling the valuable instrument on the desk before turning back to the woman beneath him.

Hermione looked at him, wide-eyed. "Kiss me," she whispered.

"Gladly," he said, stepping closer and crushing her mouth to his. The feel of his bare skin against hers was head-turning- the sparse hairs on his chest on the sensitive skin of her breasts, the hardness of the wall behind her and the hardness of Severus in front of her.

There came a point when she couldn't stand it anymore and she tried to tug her hands from his grip. Immediately he released her wrists, pausing for a moment to make sure that she was alright. Hermione responded by winding her arms around him and revelling in the feel of his bare skin.

_ Who would have ever thought? That I would hold him, that he would hold me? _ Hermione thought hazily. She shivered again.

Apparently Severus mistook it for cold, because he picked her up and turned to the bed, moving all of the papers off of it with a burst of wandless magic. In a matter of moments, Hermione's head was on the pillow and Severus was over her.

He seemed so much  _ bigger _ than she was. His legs were much longer of course, and his upper thigh and his erection pressed into her center and belly, until he began to move down, pressing kisses to her neck and collarbone.

"So fucking beautiful," he was saying. "Never thought I'd get someone so fucking brilliant, Hermione."

She gave a gasping laugh. "Gods, Severus."

One of his hands had slipped below her back and was toying with the clasp of her bra. He leaned over her again, so that his breath played with her ear.

"I'll only take this off if you tell me I can, Hermione," he told her, voice low and compelling. "If you want to stop here, we can."

She hesitated. Where would this stop? For all her musings about sex and however much she wanted Severus, she did not want to lose her virginity right now. What did she want? Did she want him to see her breasts? Would she mind it?

The answer to that was no.

But did she want to go much farther?

The answer to that was also no.

Hermione brought her hand up to cup Severus' face, stroking his cheekbone gently. "I don't want you to take it off," she whispered, pushing him back until she was sitting up. Hermione reached behind herself and unclasped her bra. "I want to do it," she said firmly. Her hair was in her face and she shook it back, then slipped her arms out of the constricting garment.

Hermione had never felt that her breasts were anything special. Lumps of flesh on her chest and nothing more. Two modest swells of flesh topped with dark nipples.

Severus, however, was in awe.

He just stared at her chest, his hands coming up to her sides, skimming up to her ribcage and then back down. The look on his face made her want to laugh.

"You can touch them, you know," she said teasingly, grinning at him.

After that, there was no stopping him. Severus pressed her back onto the bed, one of his hands going to her right breast to cup it gently and the other supporting himself as he moved downward. With a suddenness and a sensation that made her release an embarrassingly high pitched sound, Severus took her left nipple in his mouth, sucking gently as the nimble fingers on his left hand pinched and pulled carefully at the other hardened peak.

Her fingers immediately went to tangle in his hair, to pull him away or to hold him there she did not know. The sensation was intense, almost too intense, and as he gently nibbled at her breast Hermione keened in pleasure. "Oh- Severus- Severus-"

He let the nipple leave his mouth with a pop, then blew on it, making Hermione arch up. "Oh!" she gasped. He chuckled for a moment before switching breasts, giving her other breast the same attention.

When he had finished he kissed her deeply. "You are amazing," he whispered. "So responsive, Hermione. You taste so good. Your skin, your lips- you amaze me."

She wanted to say it to him so badly, she just wanted to whisper the three little words-  _ I love you _ \- but she pressed her lips together instead and just held him tightly. Now she could feel the coarse hairs on his chest against her overly sensitive nipples, she could feel the weight of his body over hers, she could feel the weight of her love for him and her  _ lust  _ for him heavy within her.

"I adore you, Severus," was what she finally settled for. "Gods. I adore you." She kissed him tangling her fingers in his hair.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the intensity of the kisses died down, until they were languidly moving their lips against each other. Severus rolled off of her, to his side, holding her to him that way. Hermione had never felt such bliss before, just a sense of all being right with the world.

When they fell asleep, half-clothed in her bed, they each felt warm and safe and above all, loved.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 42. 
> 
> As you can see, we are not going to postpone the Horcrux Hunt once we know they are in existence.
> 
> I hope the next chapter will be up on Saturday, but round 2 of moving is happening this weekend. TBH, it will depend on whether or not I can self install the internet at the new place so - fingers crossed! If not, I'll post as soon as I get internet!


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning and happy Saturday! I was able to get internet at the new place figured out after all!

**_Chapter 43_ **

Hermione steadied herself, hand on the doorknob of the sitting room of Safe House Three. Her 'team' was waiting in there for her to lead them. Lead- she was more used to working behind the scenes. No, screw that. She was used to working behind the scenes of the people who worked behind the screens. She took another shaky breath, squared her shoulders, and strode in the room. Her curls were piled on top of her head, her arms were full of reports, and her mouth was firmly set.

"Wotcher, Hermione," Tonks said, giving Hermione a large grin and a wink. "Those for us?" Something tight loosened in Hermione's chest. She had at least one ally in the room.

"Yes," Hermione said, almost curtly, handing out a report for each person. "After I finished with my meeting with Dumbledore this morning I finalized these summary reports and added all relevant details. Please read them after the meeting today is finished. I'll give the preliminary briefing now." She gave Bill, who had already opened his folder, an expectant look. He closed the folder sheepishly.

The group was arranged in a semi-circle of overstuffed chairs, their backs to the fireplace. They were missing one- it was no bother to Hermione, who pulled out her wand, conjured a chair, and promptly sat in it, crossing her legs neatly.

"Before I start, I want to ensure that all of you are fully committed to the project," Hermione said quietly, making the others lean in to be able to hear her. "If you are not, I can Obliviate you now, and you can leave with no memory and no consequences. I'll even give you another task to work on so that the rest of the Order does not know." When there was no reply, Hermione leaned back. "I need verbal confirmation from everyone. What we will be working on is not only top-secret, it is an attack on the Dark Lord himself. Should he find out, we would be direct targets of his wrath."

"Well, I'm game," said Tonks.

Bill nodded. "I'm in, Hermione."

"Me as well," chimed in Viktor.

This time there was no hesitation on Cedric's face. "Let's do this."

Hermione beamed at them. "Excellent," she said excitedly. "There is so much work to be done and all of you have talents that are rather uniquely suited to our task. Let me explain a bit more about it, and then I'll give each of you the individual details of your assignments."

There was a coffee table off to the side, Hermione twitched her fingers at it and pulled it with her magic until it sat between her and her team. Bill whistled. "Wandless? Where'd you learn that?"

Hermione grinned. "I picked it up this last year," she said, not a little proud. From the bag she had brought in, Hermione withdrew a battered black diary with a hole in the center, and placed it on the table.

"There are several objects that we are looking for," she began. "There are six that are our focus. This is one of the six, we still have to locate five." She sighed. "The thing is, we don't know how they're protected, where they are, or even what they are, for the most part."

Bill was frowning at the diary. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked in a voice that was very clearly struggling to be calm.

"It depends," Hermione said. "If you were thinking that it was the diary that affected your sister in her first year at Hogwarts, you'd be correct. This is the diary of Tom Riddle, the boy who would become Lord Voldemort. It was protected by two guardians. The first was Lucius Malfoy- the Dark Lord entrusted it to his care, wrongly. The second was a basilisk." She paused a moment.

Cedric's eyes widened. "The one that was terrorizing the school a few years ago? It got Justin- all the seconds and firsties were terrified for weeks."

Hermione nodded. "Lucius Malfoy thought that the Dark Lord was gone," she said almost dreamily. "In his possession was what he knew to be a Dark artefact, an artefact that he would not want to be caught with. So he decided to fell two birds with one stone- get rid of the book and hurt an enemy, Arthur Weasley, at the same time. He slipped the book into the cauldron of Ginny Weasley. The book took over her mind, causing her to call forth the basilisk. She did so, almost killing several people." A hard smile slid onto Hermione's face. "Including me." She still had dreams, nightmares, memories of a small hand mirror in one hand and her clenched page of notes in the other and eyes, wide and yellow and paralyzing. Being trapped in a space between waking and dreaming for weeks, hearing snippets of talk but not being able to feel or make sense of it all until she could feel Professor Snape's hands on her face and his potion in her throat.

Cedric gave a low whistle. "That's right. You were petrified for a few weeks, weren't you?"

"I was," Hermione agreed. "But I had figured it out- I knew that Slytherin's monster was a basilisk. Harry found the page of the book with my notes scrawled on it and figured it out. He went after the basilisk and killed it, destroying this diary with a fang he pulled from his own arm."

"It didn't kill him?" asked Viktor Krum. "How?" His thick dark brows were knit together in confusion.

"Phoenix tears," replied Hermione. "We were lucky- the basilisk venom destroyed this object and Dumbledore's phoenix saved Harry. We can only hope to have the same luck when locating these objects." She cleared her throat. "This is where each of your individual talents will come in handy."

"Bill, you're a curse breaker, and that'll be useful when we are dealing with the protections on the objects. You and Tonks will both be on the retrieval team full time. Tonks, I'm also going to have you on the information gathering team because of your unique ability to look like several different people." Hermione flashed her friend a smile, which Tonks returned. "Cedric and Viktor, if we need more people on the retrieval team, one or both of you will step in. However, Viktor, your language abilities and contacts throughout Europe are extremely valuable. Cedric, you also have contacts and research ability. And a trustworthy face. Viktor, you're a little too recognizable, but you can still have some role with information gathering."

Bill nodded. "When do we start?" he asked. "Do we have any leads?"

"We definitely have at least one," Hermione said, holding up her notes. "Albus gave me our first lead this morning."

Carefully, using only the details that Dumbledore had told her were allowed, Hermione described how Tom Riddle had grown up in an orphanage, how it had been a miserable, miserable childhood, how they had been given one vacation a year, to the seaside. How a girl and a boy had disappeared with Tom into the cliffs on the seaside, only to return shell shocked and trembling, unable to eat or speak for days. "We need to find out where that cave is," Hermione said. "It won't be easy. Dumbledore tracked down one of the workers from the orphanage, and we are to see her tomorrow morning. I need my most charming faces for this one, so Tonks, and Cedric. Tonks, as adorable and trustworthy as you can get it. Cedric, be yourself. Muggle clothing, respectable, everyone. The talking points that we will be pursuing are in your folders already. When we find the cave, Bill, that's where you will come in handy. But first, we need to find it."

There was a moment when all the flesh on Tonks' face seemed to waver, and then it changed slowly. Large eyes, baby blue, and long chestnut hair. "How's this?"

_ Hm... something's off. _ "Adorable wasn’t quite the right word. Older, maybe?" Hermione suggested. "We want her to give us this information willingly, if we can." The steel in her eyes told the others that if willingly wasn't an option, unwillingly was.

Tonks scrunched her face in concentration. A few wrinkles lined the sides of the eyes and mouth. With one hand, she twisted the long hair into a bun, holding it at the back of her head. "How's this?"

"Brilliant," Hermione assured her. "Do you have tweeds?"

"My mother does," Tonks said with a sigh. "If I must."

Hermione smiled at all of them, then uncrossed her legs and stood. "Tomorrow morning, nine o'clock," she told Tonks and Cedric. "I'll meet you both here."

* * *

In the heat of the afternoon, the garden of the Burrow was, for once, quiet. Around the two teenagers sitting in the sunlight were only the quiet rustle of gnomes in the bushes and the tiny sighs of the Blooming Hushies, bright red flowers that Ginny was very fond of. The sun was hot on Hermione's shoulders, but a quiet cool wind brushed her skin. She tilted her head up, eyes closed, and basked in the warmth.

Next to her, Harry scuffed the ground with a shoe, the small noise it made drawing her attention. Without opening her eyes, Hermione spoke. "You doing alright, Harry?" She had come to see him after her meeting, to give him a quick report to read and to check up on his wellbeing.

He was quiet for a bit. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I feel- I feel like I need to be doing something, though. I dunno, Hermione. I know all this stuff and I just can't sit here and- and de-gnome the garden or do a History of Magic essay."

That caught her attention- Hermione opened her eyes and faced him, raising a Severus-like eyebrow. "You haven't done your school homework yet? Harry!"

He raised his hands defensively. "I've had other things on my mind, Hermione! Like-" he lowered his voice- "the Horcruxes!"

"You- and Ron, I'm guessing, because if you haven't started your homework he certainly hasn't started his- need to get working on that right away! Seriously, Harry, your education is important! It might not seem like it now, because so much is happening, but when the Dark Lord is gone and we are out in the real world, things like N.E.W.T. scores are going to matter." Hermione knew she was lecturing him, she saw him rolling his eyes, but she couldn't help herself. "Harry-"

"Stop, Hermione!" Harry's voice was irritated, but something was stirring in the way his eyebrows came together angrily and his fists were clenched. "I can't focus on the fifteen uses of fluxweed in potions when I know that he's out there killing people, Hermione! When I know what I need to do to stop him!"

Hermione took his chin in her hand, forcing him to look at her rather than at the ground. "Don't think like that, Harry," she said gently. "I'm taking care of things. Trust me. It's not on your shoulders alone."

Harry was quiet, his green eyes calming slowly as he looked into hers. "Isn't it though?" he asked softly. "The prophecy..."

"The prophecy isn't everything," Hermione said firmly. It was funny- the skin under her fingers rasped slightly. Harry could probably grow a beard if he wanted to. It made her stomach clench- he was growing up. They were all growing up and it was all moving too fast. He wasn't a boy, he wasn't a man, he was in that odd space in between. "The prophecy isn't everything," she repeated. "Yes, there might be a time when you have to face him, but you won't be alone. I'll be at your back. Ron will be at your back. Neville and Luna and Ginny will be at your back."

Suddenly, Harry hugged her tightly. She returned the hug, tears prickling at the back of her eyes. "It'll all be okay," she told him, rubbing his back. "I'm taking care of as much of it as I can, Harry. Don't worry."

* * *

A quiet knock at the door alerted Hermione to Severus' presence right outside of it. Her breath caught in her chest, and she flushed suddenly. How was she supposed to face him when only last night his mouth had been suckling at her breasts, his fingers, his wonderful fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing and the feeling of his mouth so hot and wet and then the cold on the sensitive skin as he pulled away and oh- she had been half nude in front of this man less than twenty-four hours ago and how on earth was she supposed to look at him? He had been gone before she had risen so she had not been forced to have that meeting in the morning. Although, admittedly, it would have been easier in the small hours of the morning when they were both half nude and sleepy. Everything always felt right when she woke up in his arms, right in a way they didn't always seem in the evening or night.

Nevertheless, Hermione rose and opened the door, staring up at her tall Potions Master. He gave her a crooked grin, then swept into her room. He waited patiently until she had closed the door, then bent down and gave her a light peck on the lips. Or, it would have been a peck, except his lips had caught her lower lip and he captured it for just a moment before letting her- it- go.

"Hello, Severus," she murmured. Her heart was beating fast, and damn it she knew her face was bright red.

He smirked at her, towering over her. His hand went to her waist, the fingertips trailing up and down and up again, always stopping when they reached her ribcage. "Hello, Hermione."

Hermione could feel her flush deepening. Cursing her fair skin, she pulled away and sat down at her desk. "What brings you here?"

It felt like he was laughing at her, but only because that damn smirk wouldn't go away. "Although I could lie and say it was your luminous beauty," he drawled, sprawling gracefully into a chair and crossing his arms. "I actually have news to report."

Hermione sniffed at him, then grabbed her notebook and quill. She was uneasily aware of how the shirt she had chosen was slightly too small over the chest, making the buttons gape. Frowning, she pulled her cardigan closed over her chest. "Go ahead, Severus."

When she looked up at him, the damnable smirk was still there. "Pity. I was enjoying the view," he said blithely. "I received news from one of my contacts that we lost the giants. Sending Hagrid on that mission was a damnably bad idea and the Dark Lord's delegation has won them over completely. They should start arriving in Britain within weeks."

Hermione paled, but kept writing. "Arriving here? What does he plan to do with them?"

A sneer replaced the smirk. "Destruction," he hissed. "What else, Hermione? That's all giants are good for. Destroying towns, cities- I don't know exactly what he has planned for them yet, but rest assured that property will be destroyed and people will be hurt. He used them in the last war when he wanted to make an...  _ impression _ and he will use them again."

"Fuck," Hermione breathed. "Alright. We need to find a way to get a warning to the Office of Misinformation and the Obliviators to make sure that they're prepared with a cover story- what did they use last time?"

"Hurricanes," Severus said. "And a few other things, but saying that it was a hurricane usually works best."

Hermione sighed, and scribbled a few last notes. "Anything else?"

"The dementors are breeding," he said, voice clipped. "The nasty little buggers have been persuaded to expand their ranks by the Dark Lord."

Hermione stared at him. "How do they breed?" she asked.

"I have no idea, and nor do I want one," he snapped. "The problem is that they are spreading throughout the country. Muggles can't see them of course, but they are affected. Not as badly as wizards are, but watch for a rise in suicides, especially of prominent people. The Dark Lord likes sending them out to surround the house of someone he wants dead- he just has to wait for them to get depressed enough to kill themselves and save him the trouble."

There was quiet for a few moments as Hermione added to her notes, then charmed them a light green and sent them to a pile of other light green notes. She had a very organized system, color-coded and all.

"Did your contact say anything else?" Hermione asked, after the silence had drawn out too long to be comfortable. There had been the sense that business was over and done with, but other words would not- could not- find their way to her mouth.

Severus, still sprawled elegantly in her other chair, shook his head. There was a heat in his eyes as he looked at her, as if he was waiting for her to get the point.

Instead, Hermione cleared her throat. "When's your next meeting with the Dark Lord?" Her voice went up too high.

"Tomorrow night," Severus answered fluidly. The smirk curved around his mouth again, and he waited.

"Um- would you like a cup of tea? I could run down to the kitchen and bring it up here," she babbled. "Someone- Molly probably- brought in some new tea that I don't quite like but I have some of the tea that you gave me here-"

Severus sighed. "Hermione Granger, stop your chattering," he commanded, rising to his full height. He sat on her bed, banishing a few papers to the floor. "Come here."

Slightly shamefaced, Hermione walked over to the bed, kicked off her slippers, and slid into the bed, curling into his side. Like always he smelled of smoke and herbs and potions, of ink and night air and the flower scents from the illusion he had passed through. His chest made a comfortable resting place for her head and his arm held her tightly to his side. She half hid her face in his white shirt, shivering slightly as his long fingers began to stroke her hair.

When he spoke his voice rumbled in his chest in the most appealing way. "Hermione. If you are not pleased with the rate at which the physical side of our relationship-" she could feel his mouth curl around the word- "is progressing, then you need to let me know. Are you satisfied or dissatisfied with what we did last night?"

Hermione bit her lip, thinking. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I'm torn between wanting more and being scared, Severus."

"Scared?"

As long as she wasn't looking at him it was easy to answer. "I don't know. I want you, I want to touch you and feel you and have you touch and feel me, but at the same time, I don't feel like I'm ready. And at other times I feel like I'm more than ready and I just want to let go of everything that's telling me I shouldn't and just- and just go for it, Severus. Why shouldn't we? Just because it's complicated? But then I think about actually- actually  _ being _ with you in that way and I just know that I can't do that yet." She kept her voice quiet, fighting to keep it steady.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I understand," Severus said quietly. "I don't want to push you, Hermione. I know you are busy, I know you are stressed, and I know that the timing for this is absolute crap."

"Speaking of busy..." Hermione said slowly. "I'll be gone all of tomorrow. At least- I might have to stay for a day or two more, depending on how things go."

"Things?" There was almost a dangerous tone to Severus' question. "It isn't like you to avoid stating directly what you're about."

"It is when I've taken a vow on my magic," Hermione said quietly. "Dumbledore's special mission."

She felt him tense under her. "So you can't discuss it? Even with me?"

Hermione sighed, and rubbed his chest soothingly with one hand. "Don't think I didn't ask Albus," she said, her own annoyance with the man leaking into her voice. "His words weren't kind."

"And what were they?"

"Something about not wanting certain information in the mind of a man who spends so much of his time at the Dark Lord's side," Hermione replied, wincing a bit as she felt him tense again. "It's not because he doesn't trust you, you know that, Severus. If I were him, I'd probably agree. I don't want the Dark Lord knowing where I'll be tomorrow any more than you do, I'd suspect. Am I right?"

There was a long silence, and then Severus exhaled loudly. "You are right, you insufferable know-it-all," he muttered. "Will it be safe?"

"Mostly," answered Hermione. "I can't guarantee anything, you know I can't with the kind of work we do. But I'll be alright. Tomorrow at least will be quite tame."

"If you don't come back to me in one piece I'll be quite upset with you," Severus murmured into the top of her head.

Hermione twisted around to stare into his dark eyes."I know."

Gently his lips met hers as he took her lower lip between his own, sucking it into his mouth carefully. He kept the kisses innocent for a moment before teasing her with his tongue, tempting her to follow it back into his mouth. Hermione moved in his lap, winding her arms around his neck as she straddled him.

The sensation of him growing hard against her core was a heady one, the questions of how she could do that to him combing with the curiosity of what lay beneath the straining fabric. A distraction came in the form of one hand slipping beneath her shirt, rubbing the small of her back and going up her spine. She shivered, arching into him.

"Tell me what scares you," Severus whispered in her ear. "Talk to me, Hermione."

His lips caught the skin below her ear, sucking lightly. She let out a breathy sound, not a gasp nor a moan but something in between. "How do you know how to do all of this?" she said, her words stumbling over each other. "I- I've never felt like this in my life. It- it feels so odd-"

She had chosen to wear a button-down shirt today, feeling like it would make her look more authoritative- now he was unbuttoning it, placing kisses on her collarbone and the taunt skin above her breasts. "Go on," he instructed. "Does this scare you?"

"Yes," she breathed. "No. I don't know." How could she express this feeling of wanting him and not knowing what to do with that want? Not wanting to be passive, not knowing what to do, feeling afraid of letting go and just letting him do all these wonderful things to her with his hands and mouth? She made another sound as his mouth closed over the fabric of her bra, right over her nipple, the sensation making her arch back again. His hands moved up her back, unclasping her bra quickly. He moved away just long enough to push her shirt over her shoulders and remove her bra, leaving her half-naked before him again.

"Beautiful," he said, voice dipping as low as she had ever heard it. His fingers traced her scar lightly. She flinched, and his hand went to her chin. He tilted her head until she was looking in his eyes. "Beautiful," he insisted. "All of you is beautiful to me."

A tremor ran through her, a combination of his low voice and the chill in the room and the way his eyes were boring through hers. She could feel the slight tickling sensation of her nipples tightening, hardening. She raised her hands to her breasts, cupping them herself.

Her own flesh was warm, smooth, soft. A muscle twitched in Severus' jaw as he watched her flick her own thumb over the hard peak. "It doesn't feel the same when I do it," Hermione murmured. "Why is that, Severus?"

His eyes were dark, so dark. His hands had gone to his own shirt buttons, undoing them rapidly. He untucked his shirt and shrugged out of it, tossing it behind her and onto her floor.

"Because your body recognizes mine," he told her. Slowly he dragged his fingertips along her sides, watching her belly clench. "It knows- your hands are small and soft and mine-" he cupped one breast in one hand, and used his other to pinch her nipple lightly, drawing a small sound from her. "Tell me about my hands, Hermione. You've mentioned before that you liked them- is that still true?"

She stared up at him. "Yes. They- they're strong and rougher than mine and with longer fingers- oh-" She didn't know what to do with her hands, she fisted them in the blankets, breathing hard.

Severus removed his hands from her breasts, pulling her closer to him in an embrace. "Feel me like this," he said softly.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him tightly, overwhelmed by the feeling of his skin on hers. "I- I-" she knew she couldn't say what she wanted to say. "I adore you," was what she finally settled for. "Don't let me go, Severus."

He kissed the top of her head and her neck and stroked her back and sides. "I'll do my best."

* * *

Hermione smiled in satisfaction as she surveyed her troops. Tonks had transformed herself into a mature and dignified looking woman with gray-streaked chestnut hair drawn into a knot at the back of her head and a beautiful but lined face. She was dressed in Andromeda's clothing, which whispered of money and class. Cedric was in Muggle slacks and a button-down shirt, and his hair was combed and parted neatly. He looked older than his nineteen years, which suited Hermione.

She herself was wearing a dress that she had transfigured from a memory of one of her mother's old work dresses. Slim fitting and still professional, with stockings and heels. Hermione thick curls had been wrestled into a bun, and she had wire-rimmed glasses with clear lenses on her nose. A subtle Glamour aged her a few years.

"Tell me our cover story," she instructed Cedric.

He nodded seriously. "My great uncle, Dennis Bishop was a charge of St. Francis’ Orphanage in the early 1930s. My grandfather's family was living in France and were not contacted when Dennis' family died. Something happened to him in 1935, which resulted in Dennis hanging himself in 1940. I am seeking information or reparation."

"And I am your legal representation," Tonks added. "We are going to be visiting Cynthia Brown, who was an aide at the orphanage from 1929 to 1942."

"Perfect," said Hermione. "And I'm a distant relative of Amy Benson, who was also involved." She smoothed her hair and swallowed hard. "We'll Apparate to Headquarters. A cab will be waiting for us there- we want to appear as Muggle as possible."

The home of Cynthia Brown was small yet not cramped; unlike the houses of other ladies of her age, not every space was filled with porcelain knickknacks or photographs of grandchildren. Rather, it was sparsely decorated in pale shades of blue and green, and there was only one framed picture on the mantle of a woman and a child by the seaside.

"My sister and her child," Cynthia said when she saw Hermione looking at it. "I spent my entire life looking after little brats. I wouldn't have been able to stand having one of my own, and there was never a man in the picture anyway." She heaved a sigh and set down the tea set on an old wood coffee table, and began to pour. "Milk or sugar?"

Once everyone was settled with a worn china cup, Cynthia settled into her chair and looked at them suspiciously. "Now. You said on the telephone this had to do with St. Francis’. That place's been closed for more than a decade. Whaddya want with it now?"

Hermione nodded to Tonks, who assumed a very serious expression. "We're here about two of your charges, Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson. Do you remember them?"

The old lady's wrinkled forehead scrunched farther. She rubbed the side of her large nose, adjusted her glasses, took a sip of tea. "Yeah. I suppose I do. Odd, both of them. I wasn't the one that found Bishop's body, but it was all that Mary could talk about for weeks. Til she quit anyway."

"Odd how?" pressed Tonks.

Again, there was a space of silence and shuffling before she spoke. "Well- they was quiet, like. Scared, like little rabbits. They did what they was told. Empty eyes."

Hermione made a few notes in the notepad open on her lap. "But they weren't always like that, right?"

Cynthia's cloudy blue eyes met Hermione's for a moment, and she took the opportunity to slip in.

_ An institutional room, barren, pale green. A little girl with wet dark hair straggling over her shoulders and long bangs and hollow eyes, shivering in a large blanket. A small boy, only his blond head peeking out of the blanket, his eyes squeezed shut as fat tears leak out. And standing in the corner, a tall pale boy with a sunburned nose and his arms crossed across his chest, hiding a smirk. _

She blinked and looked away, and Hermione was out.

"No. They weren't always like that." The old woman was quiet, seeming to sink in on herself.

Cedric leaned forward, setting his cup on the table. "Ms. Brown, we need your help." His eyes were wide and appealing, and Hermione noted pleasingly that he was being very charming. "We need to know what happened. And where it happened." He paused a moment, then pleaded, "Please."

Her eyes flicked to Cedric, then down, then back to the wizard. "He was a strange one, Tom," she whispered. "He did sommat to them, to Dennis and Amy. We was at the seaside for the children, for the vacation, and they 'wandered off' he said. He was the only one who could talk. They wandered off afore lunch and didn't come back ‘til after dark and- it wasn't right."

"What did he do to them?" asked Cedric. "Do you know?"

Cynthia shook her head. "Not me, I know nothin'. None of us knew nothin'. Just that they was all scraped up- bleedin' something terrible. Amy was trembling for weeks and Dennis- he was quiet. Nightmares, he says, of snakes and water and a cave. Nothin' that made sense anyhow."

_ Snakes and water and a cave, _ thought Hermione.  _ Dennis wasn't making it up. _ "Where was this trip to the seaside?" asked Hermione. "Can you give us a location?"

"A place near Kessingland," said the woman. "Don't remember the exact name but it wasn't far."

Hermione wrote it down, a brief feeling of triumph rising in her chest. "And- do you think you could tell us a bit about Tom Riddle?"

The woman's spine straightened and Hermione noticed that her hands began to tremble, causing her tea to slosh against the sides of her cup. "No."

_ Well, maybe Cedric? _ Hermione nudged him with her foot. He shifted, then leaned in again. "Ms. Brown, it would be really helpful for our case."

"I won't be testifying or nothin'. I don't see why you need me to talk about that boy."

Cedric tried again. "Just- just to get an idea of what we should be asking other people. I promise we won't be bothering you about this later. We just- we just want to know for ourselves."

_ Handsome boys do work wonders on old women _ , Hermione thought to herself, as the woman began to speak. _ I am actually considering thanking Albus for his messing about which is making me wonder if I should check into Mungo's. _

"I said the others was odd, but that was wrong," said Cynthia shortly. "They was broken, he was odd. Quiet, polite, and- dark. He was just a dark child. If you didn't do as he wanted he would pin you with this  _ look _ , like, like he was plannin' to do sommat to you. It was right scary, just until you wanted to just do as he said to make him stop _ looking _ at you like that. That's all I'll say. Are you through with your tea?"

"Well?" asked Tonks as they walked to the Apparition point.

Hermione blinked, looking up at her. "Well what?"

"Well, did we get what we needed?" Tonks glanced around, and took her hair down from the bun. As she shook it out the grey streaks disappeared and the wrinkles slowly receded from her face, de0aging her by ten, fifteen, twenty years.

Hermione bit her lip."We got more than we had," she admitted finally. "Which is good. Now I need to track down a few more leads and then we go out again." She turned to the man walking beside her. "And Cedric- you did an excellent job." She smiled at him, a genuine smile that went to her eyes.

The wizard was so surprised that he stumbled and nearly fell. "Um- thanks, Hermione."

She patted his arm lightly. "Neither Tonks nor I could have gotten her to say half of what we needed. You did very well."

It was as if he couldn't believe it- Cedric kept glancing at Hermione, and a silly grin slid onto his face for a second. "Yeah. Right."

She couldn't help it- Hermione laughed and Tonks joined in. "I don't get a 'very good job,' Hermione?" asked Tonks, placing a hand over her chest. "I'm hurt."

Hermione, giggling helplessly, nodded. "You were brilliant too, Tonks. We're going to track these things down, all of us, and it will be great."

"In that case, and assuming we don't have anything more pressing at the moment, I suggest we stop for fish and chips," Tonks said. "My treat."

_ Well, I was going to eat lunch while going over reports _ ... thought Hermione.  _ No. I'm kidding myself. I would have gone over reports and kind of forgotten lunch. Reports can wait. _

"Fish and chips sounds lovely," Hermione said happily. "Cedric?"

He gave her a roguish grin. "Count me in."

For once there was a bright sun in the sky and leads were falling into place. A long time friend was at her right and a surprising new one was at her left and all felt right in Hermione's world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 43!
> 
> All comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday everyone!
> 
> I'm nervous for your thoughts on this one - see you at the end!

**_Chapter 44_ **

"Your day of leading the klutz and the pretty boy on a mission you can tell me nothing about went well then?" asked Severus sourly. He didn't worry about keeping his voice down- Diggory was out of the house for the night. Molly Weasley had extended an invitation for dinner that had only reached to Cedric. He had seemed worried about leaving Hermione, until she had told him to go.

Hermione, perched on the kitchen counter, finished chewing before answering. "Marvelously. Almost as good as this dinner you cooked me."

On the plate was the remains of a delicately seasoned chicken breast, asparagus, and squash. Severus had arrived at half-past six- twenty minutes after Hermione had informed him that Cedric would be out for the evening- with all the ingredients needed for dinner, as well as a light white wine that Hermione found she appreciated very much. He had cooked as they had gone through the usual exchange of information, then started on Potions research- the latest edition of Potions Monthly had been released that day. When he had asked her about how she had spent her morning, Hermione had been unable to answer because of the vow she had taken in Dumbledore's office.

"What is it you needed high heels and that dress for?" he pressed. "Not that I disapprove. It makes you look twenty-five and that's good for my conscience."

Hermione hadn't bothered to change- she quite liked the way the dress fit closely to her waist and made her feel adult. She had gotten rid of the hose and the heels though- they were ridiculous. At least, she had gotten rid of the heels until she knew Severus was coming. Anything to make the height difference more manageable. "The makeup is what makes me look older, not the dress. And I needed to look at least twenty-five," she said flippantly. "Anything else is details and you know you can't have those."

"If you can't tell me details, can you at least reassure me that Diggory was only moderately in the way?" Severus stabbed a piece of squash viciously, as if it was the yellow vegetable's fault that Hermione couldn't speak of her morning activities.

Hermione took a sip of wine, savoring the warmth and taste. "Actually, he was useful. More than useful- I wouldn't have gotten most of the information freely without him. I could have taken it, of course, but that would leave traces."

Two dark eyebrows rose in surprise. "He was  _ useful? _ " If Diggory had been there, he would have been insulted by the surprise in Snape's voice.

Setting down her empty plate and picking up her still half-full wine glass, Hermione nodded. "Very useful, actually. He isn't half bad, Severus. I've just been- no. I was prejudiced against him from the beginning, and you too. We underestimated him. He was helpful, and not just that. He's nice, Severus. We clashed a bit because I was hostile."

He eyed her wine glass. "Have you had a bit too much again?"

"No, I have not," Hermione said primly. "For heaven's sake, Severus. I'm just admitting I was wrong."

"Someone call  _ The Daily Prophet _ ," Severus said, his voice lightly teasing. "This is the story of a lifetime. Hermione Granger admitting she was wrong?"

She stuck her tongue out at him _ ,  _ but thought to herself that if teasing her would pull him from his Diggory inspired bad mood, then she could take the heat. "Hush, you."

"Don't waggle that little pink tongue in front of me unless you want me to do something about it," warned Severus, not quite teasing anymore. "Tempting an old man isn't polite."

Hermione smirked at him. "It's not temptation if you intend to follow through," she said boldly. "And I intend to follow through." She sipped at her wine, then looked up at him through her lashes. "I'd recommend eating faster if I were you."

Severus sniffed. "I'll eat at my own pace, thank you very much." Even so, the last few bites of food on his plate were soon gone. He gathered his plate and Hermione's, putting both in the sink. When he left them there, Hermione made a sound of protest.

"Severus-"

"The house-elves will take care of them and take joy in it," he said, bordering on cross. "My time, however, would be better spent taking care of you than washing dishes."

Sighing, Hermione gave in. "Fine. Then get over here."

"I don't like being ordered around, Hermione." He leaned against the sink, his eyes dark and his arms folded over his chest. "I already have two masters, a third is not welcome, even if she is pretty. Ask nicely." His voice was teasing, although there was an edge of seriousness.

_ Severus Snape is the most goddamn complicated man I've ever met. He's got more issues than Remus Lupin and that's saying a lot.  _ Still, she understood. There was a lot he was laying bare to her in that moment. A serious desire not be commanded- and a wish to be asked for. Hermione knew she was bossy, she knew she could be commanding and that most of the time it was a good thing because it meant everything got done. But she also knew that Severus was prickly and under stress from his two masters and he didn't need that from a mere teenager. What he wanted was for her to ask- which was yet another issue in and of itself.

He wanted to be wanted. To be asked for. To be desired.

A completely human reaction, but still one that made her heart ache. Too few people had wanted Severus Snape in his lifetime.

Anyone else wouldn't have understood what he was saying, would have turned away in a huff and left him once again. He could be prickly on purpose, her Severus. But it was who he was, and she loved that person.

"Please come to me," Hermione said, voice low, curling around the words. "Please come here and stand between my legs-" she spread them, inching forward on the counter- "and kiss me, Severus. Please."

His grace, something that had drawn her to him in the first place, was fluid as he crossed the room to her. His white shirt was rolled up to the forearms, showing scarred and burned hands with long, delicate fingers. The top two buttons were already undone from the heat of the stove. It was still tucked into his pants, however, and her fingers itched to untuck it, to unbutton it, to pull it off him.

The height of the counter brought her eyes level with his long nose. His hands rested on the counter on either side of her hips, not touching her. This close it was hard to look at him and she could only take in pieces- a spot he had missed while shaving, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, the smell of his shaving soap, the line of his cheekbones with his hair pulled back, the dark grey of his endless eyes...

He bent his head so that the rasp of his cheek brushed hers. "And where would you like me to kiss you, Hermione?" His voice tugged at that warm heat inside of her.

"Anywhere," she breathed. "Kiss me, please."

His lips sucked at the skin under her ear, caressed her cheek, found her own lips gently. He pulled at her lower lip, his hands coming to her waist. Her arms drew him closer, her legs wrapped around his waist.

When his lips moved away from her own, she whispered, "To my room, perhaps?"

He lifted her from the counter with ease, continuing to kiss her as they left the kitchen. He had to stop on the stairs, but Hermione contented herself with kissing his neck and beginning to unbutton his shirt. By the time they reached her door, it was half undone and definitely untucked.

The door sprang open with wandless magic and they were through the threshold; Severus pushed it back with one arm and deposited Hermione on the ground with the other. They faced each other, the only light coming in from the crack of the almost closed door.

Hermione closed her eyes, concentrated, and a few candles flickered to life. "That's better." It was- there was just enough light in the room that he was there and alive but also slightly hazy, half a dream and half a reality.

"It is." His hand rose to her cheek, curling down her neck until it met her shoulder. "Let me see you." A handful of unspoken words were said with his eyes.

Hermione turned her back to him, tilting her neck although she didn't need to move her still pinned-up hair out of the way. "I'll need you to unzip me, then."

It was a kind of agony then, waiting for him to do something. She could sense his presence- her magic was powerful enough to sense another powerful magic moving behind her- as he moved closer, and then she could imagine feeling his warmth. Her full-length mirror was in front of her, but it was too dark to make out much other than the form of his white shirt moving closer and closer. A kiss was pressed to the back of her neck.

"I rarely see this part of you," he murmured. "Always covered by your hair." His fingers traced a constellation of freckles, then found the zipper of the dress. Slowly, so slowly, he drew it down.

When the band of her bra was exposed, she could hear him exhale. "Black?"

"I felt like it," Hermione replied. "Sexy underwear gives one confidence."

She could feel the cool air of the room on her flesh as he exposed her back, drawing the zipper down her spine centimeter by centimeter. It stopped right above the band of her panties, and Hermione smiled to herself as she imagined his reaction to her dropping the dress she was holding up with crossed arms.

"Drop it," Severus hissed in her ear, pressing the heat of his body into her back. He stepped away, waiting. In the shadowy mirror she suddenly met his eyes. Keeping his gaze, she let her arms drop and the dress slid to the floor.

She stepped out of the dress, and with a flick of her hand she sent it to drape over the back of her chair. She smiled at him, then examined her own reflection in the mirror.

Flesh made golden by candlelight and the harshness of black. Black straps over her shoulders, black cups holding her breasts. Her arms, long and slightly defined. Her collarbones, sloping in. Hermione liked the way her waist dipped in before her hips flared (too much, in her opinion). The dark dip of her navel, a small swell of the baby fat that had never gone away, the slight rise of her hipbones, the panties that were more black lace than real fabric. Her legs were short but strong and looked better because of the heels she was still wearing. She felt sexy and alive and a little embarrassed.

"I've never been so... exposed in front of someone before."

Her words hung in the air, quiet but heard.

"You are the most beautiful being I've ever seen," Severus said finally. He finally stepped closer, one hand going to her waist. She let out a shaky breath as his fingers stroked the skin of her abdomen. He shrugged out of his shirt, then stepped even closer, pressing his front to her back.

She could feel the cold metal of his belt buckle in the middle of her back, and the warmth of his chest and the feeling of skin against skin. There was a hot hardness pressing against her, his erection. She had caused that- her body. What was this, that she was in a darkened room with a man and he was so aroused at the sight of her body?

Warm lips met her neck, and Hermione tilted her head to give him access, reaching up behind her to hold his head. His arms had come around her in an embrace, holding her tightly, exploring her skin. His hands were so large- when he turned her around, to kiss her deeply, his fingers nearly met at the center of her back.

Hermione wound her arms around his neck, meeting his tongue with her own. His hands went to her arse, squeezing and pushing her into his hardness. To gain better access, he lifted one of her legs, and willingly she hooked it around his hips. "Fuck," he breathed, and one of his hands went to the back of her neck, fingers curling around her neck possessively.

Neither of them noticed the thump of footsteps running up the stairs. The door opened at the same time Cedric said, "Hermione, we need you-"

For Hermione, the words pierced through the haze made of Severus' mouth and his hands on her body and the warmth of him. Her name, said in a voice that was still becoming familiar.

Severus reacted first, pulling away. Hermione stumbled in the heels she was still wearing, dread filling her body at the look of murderous rage on her lover's face. She had to grab his arm for support, but turned to face the intruder.

Cedric was standing in the doorway, blocking out most of the light. His handsome face was just an expression of shock. His eyes were wide, and he was breathing heavily. "Professor- Hermione- What- what the fuck is this?" His gaze went from Hermione to Severus, unsure of who to look at.

Hermione took in the same scene, a feeling of horror trickling down her back like ice water. What was Cedric seeing? Professor Snape, half-naked, with one of his students wrapped around him in her underwear. Hermione Granger with her tongue in the mouth of a man nearly twenty years her elder. She was struck mute, unable to speak despite the questions Cedric's stunned eyes were asking.

Severus was not. "What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed at Diggory. She had never seen him this angry before- not even in the Shrieking Shack.

"Emmeline Vance was just murdered," said Cedric, eyes still glued to Hermione. "Dumbledore told me to get Hermione."

"You, turn around," Severus snarled at Cedric. "Hermione, put some goddamn clothes on." A shirt was thrust into her hands, and reflexively Hermione put it on. It was long enough- it belonged to Severus- to cover her entirely. Cedric jolted and turned around, facing the door. Severus relaxed a fraction.

Hermione shook her head, putting a hand over her eyes.  _ Emmeline Vance, dead. Fuck. Fuck. She was on Harry's defense, if they got information from her- fuck. _

"Okay." she said finally. "Okay. The Order's meeting at Headquarters? You can turn around now."

Cedric turned around again, facing them. "Uh- yeah."

Hermione looked up at Severus. The muscle in his jaw was working, and he was staring at the air over Cedric's head. His fists were clenched, and the muscles in his arms were tight. She rested a hand on his forearm, bringing his eyes to hers.

"This is what we are going to do," Hermione said quietly, looking back at Cedric. "We are going to go to the Order meeting, and when that's done and everything's sorted we'll come back here and talk about this."

"Talk?" asked Cedric. "This- this- this is wrong? What the fuck is happening here?"

"Shut your mouth," Snape hissed. He turned to Hermione. "You get dressed. Diggory and I will be waiting for you in the living room." His voice changed when his eyes met Cedric's. "You, out, now." It was low and dangerous and still damnably sexy.

Cedric left, shutting the door behind him. Silence hung in the wake of his departure, Severus and Hermione just standing still.

Hermione shrugged off Severus' shirt, handing it back to him. He put it on, buttoned it with a spell, and tucked it in. Without a word, he swept out of the door.

Tears were burning behind her eyes, for the death of a friend or the death of an era she didn't know.

* * *

His robes were hanging on a chair in the kitchen. Severus called them to him, feeling instantly more comfortable once they were buttoned up to his neck. In his armor he was able to dart into the living room, wand in one hand, and grab the boy.

With a brute strength Cedric obviously didn't expect, Severus pushed him back until he was against the wall, Severus' wand in his face.

"What-"

"You will speak of this to no one," Severus spat, his eyes glinting darkly. "No one."

A look of rage overtook the handsome face in front of him. "Remember last time you attacked me like this?" asked Cedric angrily. "After the tournament. Were you fucking her then, too?"

Before he quite knew what he was doing, Severus' arm was pressing at Cedric's neck, choking the boy. "You don't understand what you are speaking of," he hissed. "Of course not! She is nineteen and-"

"More than a decade your junior," gasped Cedric.

"Give me one more reason to hurt you," whispered Severus, a kind of blind rage he had never felt before pressing at his eyes and fizzing in his muscles and making his magic pulse under his skin.

The clicking of heels on the stairs brought him to himself. He pushed himself off the gasping boy, going to stand by the staircase. "No one," he reminded Cedric. The boy glared, but nodded.

Hermione came down looking put together, her hair as perfect as it would get and her makeup reapplied, down to the red lipstick. The only thing was a mark on her neck she hadn't noticed. He cast the Glamour on her wordlessly, despite the way it sapped his strength.

"Let's go," Hermione said shortly.

The three of them left the Safe House in a silent, tense procession.

* * *

The Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix had gathered together to mourn one of their own. Molly still had tears running down her cheeks. Arthur's arm was around his wife, but his eyes were red. Mad-Eye Moody was jumpier than usual. Remus looked tired and strained. Hermione noticed that Harry wasn't at the table. Evidently, the Weasleys had 'forgotten' to bring him. She would have to talk to them about that.

"Sorry I'm late," Hermione said smoothly, sliding into her seat. "I was meeting with Severus when he came."

Cedric said nothing, but took a seat at the other end of the table, away from where Severus and Hermione sat close to Dumbledore.

"It is, of course, alright, my dear girl-"

"Fuck that." Mad-Eye Moody stood, swaying slightly as he gripped the table. "Why didn't you or Snape know about this, Granger?"

Hermione met his gaze calmly. "We knew that this was a possibility-"

"Possibility? You knew that Em was going to be attacked and you did nothing about it?" The speaker was a member that Hermione didn't know very well- only his file, which had mentioned that Vance had been his sponsor.

To Hermione's surprise, Severus came to her defense. "That wasn't what she said, Peters," he snarled. "We knew that the Death Eaters were trying to coordinate strikes on high-level Order members. We didn't know who they would target or when."

"You say 'the Death Eaters' as if you weren't one of them, Snape," Mad-Eye said, accusation in his voice. "There is no way in hell you didn't know about this! Where were you when they were planning these attacks?"

"They probably organized the attack today," Snape said angrily. "They got a tip, some kind of information, and they jumped at the chance."

Moody leaned heavily on the table, his scarred face twisted into a scowl. "And just where did they get that information, Snape?"

Dumbledore spread his arms, standing. "Enough!"

"It's a valid question, Albus," the old Auror said. "How the hell did they get this?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Give me the details of the attack. What happened exactly? Tonks?"

The Metamorphmagus sighed. "It was brutal, Hermione. Her house was broken into, and she was found dead from the AK in a room that was locked from the inside. The Muggle Aurors are baffled. But we went over the body. She was tortured for a bit." Tonks slid a bright blue file across the table to Hermione.

She opened it, looking at the official report. _Evidence of Cruciatus Curse._ _Death from the AK. Bruises, probably from kicks. Threw up in one corner of the room. Burns on body._

"It looks like they were trying to get information out of her just as much as they were trying to send us a message," Hermione said after a moment. "This is bad news. Emmeline was on Harry's protective detail. She knows where he was staying, knows the guard schedule- if they got anything from her, Harry is in danger."

Molly started, indignant. "Harry is perfectly safe at the Burrow," she snapped.

"Exactly the opposite," Hermione countered. "Until we know for sure what they got out of Emmeline, then no one is safe at the Burrow. We should move everyone into Headquarters, at least until we know what we are dealing with."

"Absolutely not!" exclaimed Molly. "Albus-"

"I agree with Hermione," Dumbledore said gravely. "Harry's safety is our top priority. For a week at least we should have him here, at Headquarters. We can up the protections on the Burrow at that time, as we wait for Severus to report."

Molly looked from Hermione to Dumbledore, mouth open. "But- but- his godfather just died, Albus! We can't have him come back here!"

"In that case, Harry can come and stay with Cedric and I at Safe House Three," Hermione said. "It would be safer that way, anyway."

"In what way, girlie?" Mad-Eye asked. "At least Headquarters is under a Fidelius Charm. This could be a trap- there is a Death Eater who knows where Safe House Three is. A Death Eater who can get past the illusion and bring others with him."

The accusation against Severus made the emotional part of Hermione seethe. The rational side of her took over, pushing the angry emotions down. "I don't appreciate what you are insinuating, Moody, but you make a good point. I wouldn't want Severus in that position in front of the Dark Lord."

"Alastor and Hermione are both correct," said Dumbledore, the stern tone of his voice letting his followers know that his word was final. "Harry- and all of the Weasleys- will come here until we can ascertain exactly what Lord Voldemort knows and we can improve protection on the Burrow."

"When will the funeral be?" someone asked, and just as quickly as that the meeting swept on.

Hermione's pulse was beating in her ears. The sound was uncomfortable, the feeling in the pit of her stomach even worse. She could see the harsh and angry line of Cedric's back. What would he do? Would he say something?

What would it be if everyone knew about her and Severus? Instinctively Hermione felt that it was wrong. That this thing that she and Severus had was to be kept private and secret, something between the two of them and no one else. It was special, sacred, delicate. It would burn in the light of day if it was put under the magnifying glass of public scrutiny.

Another part of her rebelled at this idea- why should they sneak around in secret, playact in public like they were nothing more than teacher and student, spy and handler? Why shouldn't she be able to lean into her lover's body for comfort, the same way Molly Weasley was tucked under Arthur's arm? They weren't doing anything wrong-

Except that they were.

A part of her had always known that it would be an issue, a huge issue. He was her teacher. Her  _ professor.  _ That was a bond that was never supposed to be broken. They had corrupted that beyond repair. How could she sit in his classroom now, knowing that his mouth had been on her breasts, that her hands had wound in his hair, that she had felt his hardness against her aching core?

When the meeting ended, Hermione stood woodenly, leaving quickly ahead of the bustle of people. Two people followed her out- Cedric and Severus.

When the three of them were alone in the foyer, Hermione stopped, turning and crossing her arms over her chest. "Are we going back to the Safe House to talk about this?"

"I am going to the Dark Lord's side," said Severus smoothly. "I'll make my report when I'm done." With a sneer for the both of them, he swept out the door and into the cool night air.

Cedric glared at him. "I'm going to visit my parents. They live in Ottery St. Catchpole near the Weasleys. I don't want them caught up in a mess if something happens."

_ I ask for one thing, _ Hermione thought angrily. "But-"

Cedric sighed. "I'm not going to say anything yet," he said tiredly. "I- now isn't a good time. I think we all need a day to cool off, no?"

"Yeah. I guess so," Hermione responded. She cursed herself for letting so much of her weariness leak into her voice.

He heard it- Cedric's face softened a bit. "I'm sorry," he offered.

"We'll talk about this when you get back," Hermione said, flapping a hand at him. "Go. See your parents."

* * *

When Hermione entered Safe House Three, alone, it felt as if there was a terribly heavy weight on her shoulders, bending her body and pushing on her spine. Her feet ached from the high heeled shoes, her head hurt from the pins holding her hair, and her eyes burned from the makeup around them.

A bath was in order.

Slowly she climbed the stairs to her room, stepping out of her shoes and on to the rug with a sigh of relief. Sitting at her desk she plucked pin after pin out of her hair, letting it fall down into the mess it was loose. Hermione used a spell to unzip her dress, struggling to avoid letting memory overwhelm her. Quickly she removed her fancy underwear and put on her robe.

She removed the makeup in front of the bathroom mirror, watching as her defined eyes became red and smaller, as her mouth went from tempting to dry and ordinary. The steam from the running bath soon clung to the mirror, thankfully obscuring her reflection. She hated mirrors. She hated mirrors and she hated the distorted truth that they could show.

When the steam was so thick that she could barely see in front of her, Hermione removed her robe and sunk into the water, letting her hair fan out around her.

Once the warmth of the water had sunk into her skin and into the wall of ice she had built around her emotions she couldn't keep the tears in anymore. They burned as they left her eyes, leaving tracks tinted slightly black from mascara on her face.

What would happen? What would Severus say? What would Cedric say? How would all of this get resolved?

She had known from the first moment their lips had touched that what she was getting herself into was a dangerous contradiction of right and wrong. The list of wrongs was great.

He was so much older than her. She was nothing but a child compared to his life and his experiences and his intelligence, despite her being over the age of consent physically.

He was a Death Eater, she was Harry Potter's best friend. Even if he was a spy for the Order, no one could ever be sure of his loyalties. He was a liar as slick as oil on glass. Everyone- Dark and Light- would oppose their relationship.

And he was her teacher. Her professor. She had sat in his fucking classroom since she was eleven years old. Her feet hadn't even touched the ground from the bench at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall the first time she had seen him. She had spent hours in the library researching Potions for essays for him, which he had graded and left marked with scathing comments. And besides that, he had taught her so much when she was young. How to fight, how to protect her mind- she had been constantly seeking his approval since she had been eleven years old. Others would ask what kind of perversion would lead a grown man to kiss the girl he had been in a position of authority over since she had been a malleable child.

But the wrongs didn't- couldn't- compare to the things that were right.

There was so much right in the way he could look at her and know what was wrong. In the way that she could tell him things that she could never admit to Harry or Ron, things like her memories of the people she had murdered, things that he could understand without judgment because  _ he knew what it was. _ Not what it was like, what it was. Severus Snape understood Hermione in a way that no one else could. What was so wrong about that? Having a person to connect to?

And with the work that they did, there was so much that needed to be kept hidden all the time. He constantly needed to be playing a part- except in front of her. And she could relax in front of him as well. When it was just Severus and Hermione and the four walls of her room she didn't need to be the perfect prefect of Gryffindor or a competent Order member. He didn't have to be a Death Eater or an Order member. They could just be Severus and Hermione, man and woman.

So what if he was her teacher? There had been little she had been learning in his classroom of late. His role as her teacher was at its end in every way but officially, when she had to sit in his classroom. And even then she could pretend to be nothing but a normal student, as Glamours obscured her real face and her mind wandered as she brewed.

There was nothing but right when he held her and kissed her and touched her. Hermione hadn't known that just the touch of mouth on mouth could make her feel what Severus had shown her she could feel. There was always so much in her head, every day, plans and reports and worries- until his hands were on her body and his mouth was on hers and then her head was filled with Severus. Wonderful Severus.

When the tears ran dry she slowly washed her hair, then left the tub. Severus would be returning soon, and then they would talk.

* * *

When the long and lanky form of Severus slid into her room, Hermione fought the urge to go to him and wind around him, to kiss him again. There was a rising panicky feeling that was only just trapped by her breastbone, the feeling like she had to do it now before the chance was taken from her forever. Instead, she remained behind her desk, only moving to get her notebook.

"What did he say?" she asked quietly.

Severus kept his robes on instead of shrugging them off like he normally did. Her stomach clenched. He sat in his chair, tilting his head as he considered her carefully. "Nothing. He didn't grant my request for an audience."

She bit her lip. That wasn't good. "Did you get a chance to talk to any of the other Death Eaters?"

"No," he snapped. "I hung around there for three hours, but nothing. All of the ones who had been on the raid were with the Dark Lord. I was able to get nothing. I'll try again tomorrow."

Hermione scrawled a brief note in her notebook, the slid it back into its former position on her bookshelf. She avoided looking at him for as long as possible, staring at her books. Textbooks, journals, an odd fiction book or two.

"We need to talk about this, don't we?" she asked finally, turning her gaze to him. The harsh lines of his face were held in perfect neutrality, which gave everything away at once.  _ No, don't do this, Severus... _

He nodded sharply. "Yes."

This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have sitting down. Hermione stood, coming around her desk to lean on it. Severus remained seated, his dark eyes following her. Her leg was inches away from his thigh. She could smell the soap from his post-Death Eater shower.

"I'm sorry for not closing the door properly," Hermione whispered. "We were so caught up we didn't notice."

Severus looked away from her. "My fault as well."

Silence hung.

"Blame won't help," Hermione said finally. "What- what do we do now?"

His eyes went up, catching hers. "It was going to happen sooner or later. We weren't being careful, Hermione!" His voice cracked on her name.

She choked on her own breath. "We can be more careful-"

"This entire thing was fucking carelessness from the beginning," Severus snapped. "We shouldn't have even started anything."

"But we did." Trembling, cursing her body for betraying her, Hermione reached out a hand, caressing the roughness of his cheek. "We did, Severus. It was going to happen, sooner or later, because it is so right-"

Violently he pulled away from her, standing and going to the other side of the room. "Right? What fucking world are you living in, Hermione?" Turning, he bore down on her, until she was against the wall and he was over her, anger in his face. "I'm your fucking teacher! To the rest of the world, you aren't even seventeen yet! I'm a fucking pervert and you're a stupid girl!"

"That's not true!" Hermione cried. "You know it's not, Severus-"

"What I know is that we were living in a bloody happy bubble and ignoring the outside world," hissed Severus. "And Diggory popped it and let the real world in." They were so close, they were breathing the same air, his mouth was so close to hers-

He pulled away again, fury in the spread of his shoulders. "Did you see the disgust on his face?"

"He doesn't understand!" she protested. "There is nothing wrong with us! I'm at least nineteen by now, I can make my own decisions! We have something special-"

"What we have is dangerous," said Severus. There was a note in his voice, a note of weariness that scared her more than anything. He turned to face her again. His face wasn't resolute- there was a touch of sorrow there. "I told you from the beginning. We aren't focused on the war, we are focused on each other. We have roles to play, Hermione! You need to be protecting Harry and protecting the Order- I handed you Emmeline Vance's name on a piece of paper, warning you she'd be attacked, and you were too concerned with fighting and making up with me than you were with getting her the proper protection."

She tried to interrupt, but he kept talking over her.

"And is that a fucking surprise? No. You're still a teenager, Hermione. Yes, you are the most brilliant school girl I've ever taught-" there his mouth twisted with some kind of emotion- "but you are still barely more than a child. I don't know why Dumbledore thought it was appropriate to make you one of the top five most valuable people in the Order at your age. Except I do- I vouched for you. I forgot your age, he forgot your age, we all forgot because you are competent and so good at what you do it is easy to think that you aren't a teenaged girl whose head can be turned with kisses and promises-"

"Stop!" Hermione said in a low, dangerous voice. "Stop right there, Severus." There had been something terrible in his face when he had said Dumbledore's name, something that made her own blood run cold.

But he continued. "Gods, it was so easy. You don't know what love is, what romance is- all I had to do was kiss you and you were mine." The sneer on his face was almost mocking.

"Stop," she whispered again. "Just-"

With a low laugh, Severus came close to her, pulled her tight to him and kissed her, his mouth moving against hers harshly. She was rigid for a moment, then leaned into him, kissing him back. Suddenly he pulled away, leaving her reeling.

"See! Even now, even after I've said all these horrible things to you, you still kiss me back as if I were your lover-" he half-shouted.

She put a hand to her mouth, unable to help the tears that started to fall. "Don't, please, Severus."

He came close to her again, and took her chin in his hands. All expression was gone from his face again. "We are done, Hermione," he said quietly. "We should never have started this in the first place."

Hermione clutched at his hand, her teary eyes wide. "But we did. We did. How can you give this- what we have- up?"

"It is a liability," Severus told her, gently. Too gently. "It's hurt my ability to do my job, it's hurt your ability to do your job. We are in a war. We can't do this anymore."

"But it was working," Hermione said, hating the way her voice rose. "It was working. If Cedric hadn't walked in-"

Severus closed his eyes, let out a breath. "It wouldn't have lasted the summer," he told her, eyes still closed. "I'm your teacher, in case you've forgotten. I forgot too. We cannot do this, Hermione."

He tried to pull away, but she hung on. "No. What about everything you said to me? You said you would never hurt me, that you wouldn't let me go, you said that you wanted me-"

"Goddamn it, woman!" he said, voice raised. He pulled away from her, moving to put distance between them. "What the fuck do you want me to say, Hermione?"

Hermione stood in the center of her room, trembling with anger or fear or sorrow. "The truth, Severus. Just tell me the truth." When he didn't move, she addressed his back. "Severus Snape, come here and tell me the fucking truth."

He whirled around, crossing the distance until there was almost no distance between them. "The truth? Don't you know better than to ask a spy and a traitor for the truth?"

"You are more than a spy or a traitor," Hermione whispered. "You are my Severus."

"Except I'm not," he said, one hand coming to her face to tuck a curl behind her ear. "Everything I am right now is a spy and a traitor. You were an escape but-"

"But what?"

His dark grey eyes were boring into hers. "The Greater Good," he said, voice barely more than a rumble in his chest. "I can't think of myself right now. I can't think about what I want or what I- what I need-" on that word her breath hitched- "and neither can you, Hermione. We are part of something that's bigger than just you or me. I am a spy and you need to protect our only hope."

He bent down, bringing his mouth to hers, and kissed her softly. She hesitated, but his arms went around her and lifted her up and his tongue sought entrance to her mouth and finally, she obliged, she kissed him back even as her tears wet both of their faces. He was kissing her with a terrible sadness in his movements, in the way he clung to her desperately.

When he finally pulled away, she let out a shuddering breath. "Why did you do that?"

He caressed her face lightly. "Because I didn't want what had come before to be our last kiss." His fingers lingered on her skin, then left suddenly.

Hermione was about to reply when his face contorted and his left arm spasmed. "The Dark Lord calls me to his side."

"Be safe," Hermione said, tears spilling over again. "Be- be safe, Severus."

He gave her a sharp nod. "Of course, Miss Granger." He left, robes swirling behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 44!
> 
> I would love your thoughts in the comments! There have been fewer comments than before - I want to know what everyone thinks! Although I must admit I'm a little afraid, given the contents of this chapter... 
> 
> See you on Saturday!


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> So many comments! You all make my heart sing - it was great to hear from so many people! Thank you to my lovely beta Sorasradust, and on to the story!

**_Chapter 45_ **

Cedric Diggory moved through Safe House Three carefully, treading lightly on the thin carpet in the living room. It was barely morning, and the sun had yet to pierce the windows in the foyer. To his surprise, the fire was still crackling heartily, consuming a healthy pile of firewood. When he went to check why it hadn't been banked, he started. Hermione Granger was sitting on the couch, staring into the flames, an empty look in her eyes.

Against the threadbare green of the old furniture, she painted a sad picture. Her hair was an explosion of messy and frizzy curls and there were deep bags under her eyes. Her legs were drawn up onto the cushions, and she was hugging them to herself.

"Hermione? Are you okay-"

"It's over," she said flatly.

Cedric took a seat in the armchair, concern running through him. "What do you mean-"

"It's over," she repeated. "Sev- Professor Snape and I."

_ So that's why she looks like death warmed over, _ thought Cedric. "Oh."

Her gaze went from the flames to his face. "Are you going to say anything to anyone?"

"Um- no. There's no point if it's done, right?" His own words felt odd and clumsy to him. "I wouldn't have said anything even if you were still seeing him."

Something terrible crossed her face. "You seemed very upset last night."

Cedric flushed. "It's not every day you run into a former professor of yours fu- um- with one of his students." He passed a hand through his hair. "I was pretty damn shocked."

Hermione tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah. I guess not."

"It's, um- it's over, though?" asked Cedric.

She still refused to look at him. "Yeah. It wasn't going to last anyway, I suppose. Once we got back to Hogwarts, you know."

Cedric frowned at her. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

Finally, she looked at him again. Her eyes still seemed empty. "Do I look okay?"

"You look like you stayed up all night," Cedric said truthfully. "I didn't mean to-"

"You were a catalyst for an explosion that was waiting to happen," Hermione interrupted, her eyes suddenly like ice. "Don't think anything more of it." She stood, turning her back to him to climb the stairs up to the second floor, and their rooms.

* * *

Two hours later, when Cedric was eating breakfast in the kitchen, Hermione reappeared. Her hair was neatly braided, her clothes were clean and ironed, and color was back in her skin. Her eyes were bright and happy, and she looked younger than she had since he had known her.

"You look better," he said slowly, to the stiff back that faced him.

"Glamours," she replied. "I'm moving into Headquarters."

He squinted at her as she turned. "You're really good at those- even my mom still has shimmers when she moves."

"I've been doing them every day for the last several years," she said dully. "You get enough practice and..." she let her voice trail off.

Cedric sighed, leaning against the counter. He felt awkward, but like he had to say something. "Are you sure you're okay, Hermione?"

"Yes, of course I am," she said. This time she put effort into a bright tone.

_ Bullshit, _ thought Cedric. He raised an eyebrow. "You may look fine but you sound like someone ran over your Kneazle."

"I don't need to talk about it, or anything," said Hermione sharply. "You walked in on something that had nothing to do with you."

She turned to go, but he lunged and grabbed her arm. "I don't know what it was, but I know that he hurt you," Cedric said quickly, and softly. "Hermione, people in the Order were worried about you, that you were becoming more like him. Maybe this is a good thing- and I know you're hurting and I know it's partially my fault and for that I'm sorry."

"I'm fine," she said again, more forcefully. She yanked her arm away. "I have to go."

"So I'll be here all alone?" asked Cedric. "Is anyone else going to be here?" He didn't like the idea of being alone in the Safe House, with only house-elves for company.

Hermione started. "Uh- no. I'm going to be in both places."

"At the same time?" Cedric asked, confused.

When Hermione grinned at him- and actually smiled- his confusion deepened. "Exactly."

* * *

She felt hollow.

It was a dull kind of feeling, as if she was normal on the outside and just missing everything on the inside. Emotions, pain, worry, guilt- all of them were behind the shields she had built inside her mind. Her emotions were a mess, but they were a mess that was locked off from the rest of her.

Hermione only just remembered to enlarge her trunk before entering Grimmauld Place, pulling it along behind her as she entered the big old house. There was no need for Ron to be asking questions about who had done the magic for her, and she didn't want to have to bother an 'adult' with doing the simple spell work for her. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the painting of Sirius' mother began to shriek. "Mudblood! Filth entering my house and home-"

Calmly, the witch drew her wand and stepped close to the painting, meeting the flat oil eyes with her own. "Be quiet or I'll douse you with turpentine."

The Black matriarch sniffed haughtily. "Silly girl. There are protections in place that you could never get through-"

"Watch me," Hermione threatened, voice cold. The painting huffed and magically twitched her curtains closed.

The pattering of footsteps on the stairs alerted her to Ron, Harry, and Ginny, with varying degrees of pleasure to see her on their faces. Mrs. Weasley appeared from the sitting room, followed by Viktor.

"Hullo, everyone," she said, forcing herself to sound bright and happy.

Ginny hugged her first, then Harry, and finally Ron. "Mum didn't say you'd be here too," Ginny said, throwing a confused look at her mum.

"You aren't, right Hermione?" asked Molly nervously. "You were staying at-"

"But I'm not now," Hermione said coolly. "Professor Dumbledore said to come here in the morning, so here I am! Ginny and I can share again, can't we?" She flashed a smile, hoping that it didn't ring fake.

"No," said Mrs. Weasley, at the same time Ginny replied, "Yes!"

Viktor laughed. "Who else would Hermione share with? I would offer, but I am sure that you would disapprove."

Mrs. Weasley looked so horrified that everyone snickered. "No, of course she'll stay with Ginny," she said huffily. "Of course. Boys, help Hermione take her things up to her room, and Ginny, come help me get lunch started."

When Viktor took Hermione's trunk, picking up the heavy bag easily, Mrs. Weasley flapped her hand at him. "I was talking to Harry and Ronald, Viktor, you really don't have to-"

"I am wanting to, Mrs. Weasley," Viktor said politely, flashing the woman a quick smile as he moved toward the stairs. "Really, it is no problem."

Hermione followed him, Ron and Harry trailing behind her, jostling each other on the stairs. The sounds of their bickering were ignored by Hermione, who was concentrating on the broad back in front of her.

Severus had made her stop her relationship with Viktor when she had been barely seventeen. God, those days had been so awful. She had felt like she was trapped in her own head half the time. Being two places at once, keeping track of everything that was happening, but telling no one. There had been no one to talk to, not Harry who was concentrating on the Triwizard Tournament and Ron who had been angry at them- and once they had reconciled it was worse, because Ron would talk to Harry and Harry to Ron and there was really no reason for her to be there at all.

Then Viktor had appeared- wonderful Viktor, who had watched her in the library and shyly asked her to go to the Ball with him. He was an international sports star- who would have believed that Hermione Granger had attracted the attentions of an international sports star? Not Hermione. The attention had been glorious. Secret meetings in the library, where they had just talked. Talked about themselves and their childhoods, talked about the differences between their schools, talked about their hopes for the future. For one solitary hour every day, Hermione was in heaven.

And then the Yule Ball- she spent hours wrestling her hair into submission, dressed in a gown that had been a bit too expensive, and she had floated into the Great Hall on the arm of Viktor Krum. The looks of surprise on the faces around her gave her a vindictive triumph- yes, she was a swot and a bookworm and not particularly pretty, but still, she had been the one who had captured the interest of Krum. For a few hours, it had been wonderful, until Ron had brought it crashing down.

And soon, Severus had brought it crashing down as well.

_ Was he jealous, even then? _ Hermione asked herself bitterly, before discarding the question. No, of course not. He hadn't started thinking of her in that way until after the Third Task. That was when he had stopped calling her 'Miss Granger.' Well, had stopped until the night before anyway.

She shouldn't think of Severus. Thoughts of him pushed against the barrier she had raised, pushed against it and threatened to break it. The pain rose suddenly, and it took all she had to push it back.

They were at the landing, and Viktor was asking what room Hermione would be staying in. The words flowed over her for a moment, unheeded, before Harry responded, pointing to the farthest room down the hall.

_ Concentrate, _ Hermione chided herself.  _ Just wait until you are alone. Give yourself a minute, and then get on with your goddamn life. Don't let this break you- you are stronger than this. You aren't the kind of girl to let a man break you completely. Push it away. And don't let on to Ron or Harry- or Viktor- that something is wrong. _

"You can just leave it on the floor, Viktor," Hermione said, smiling at the older boy. "I'm going to start unpacking- if I hurry I can probably finish before lunch."

Harry sat on Hermione's bed, and Ron on Ginny's. "Mum was so mad that we had to come here," he said glumly. "You should've seen her, Hermione."

_ I did, _ Hermione thought, a trickle of amusement sliding behind her wall. "I'm sure Dumbledore thought everything through," she said primly. "If he thought this was best, it was."

"I wish I had been at that meeting," said Harry, his tone echoing Ron's. "I'd rather be at the Burrow too. If he's still making decisions about my life-"

"Do you know why you are here?" asked Viktor gruffly.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then up at the Quidditch player. "That's right- you were at that meeting," Ron said. "Why'd they move us?"

"Emmeline Vance is dead," Hermione answered quietly, the sound of her trunk popping open almost louder than her voice. "That's what I heard anyway."

"Blimey," murmured Ron. "Vance- I've seen her."

Harry was frowning. "Me too. She was one of the people who picked me up from the Dursley's last year."

"She knew information about you, Harry," Viktor said. "That is why she was being killed, and why you have been moved."

If it had been any other day, Hermione would have shot Viktor a glare. There was no reason Harry needed to be blaming himself for deaths he could do nothing about. Today, however, she just started moving clothes from her suitcase to the dresser, ignoring the mirror- which advised her to use some Sleakeazy's on her hair- and Harry's tight face.

"So how long are we going to be here?" asked Ron. "Do you know, Hermione?"

"Dumbledore told my parents that I wouldn't be back before school starts, but I don't know," Hermione answered smoothly. "We might go back to the Burrow." She hoped they wouldn't. The lack of privacy would drive her crazy.

For a while it was quiet, and the boys just watched Hermione unpack, making her feel uncomfortable. If they would just  _ go _ she could use her wand be done in a flick and a swish.

From the open door, they could hear Molly's voice float up. "Ron! Get down here and set the table!"

The redheaded boy groaned. "Yes, Mum!" he called back.

"I'll help," Harry offered.

Ron slung an arm around the shorter boy's shoulders as they left the room. "Knew you were good for something, mate," he said as they left. "I think Mum made sandwiches. It's always sandwiches in the summer."

That left Viktor and Hermione alone in the room, something that they were both immediately and acutely aware of. Hermione gestured at the door, using wandless magic to close it. In a moment, her wand was in her hand and in another, her clothes were all neatly in the drawers, and her trunk slid under the bed easily.

"There," she said, folding her arms. "That was much easier."

Viktor nodded, saying nothing. He moved closer to her, making Hermione step back. She looked at him nervously, trying to read his face. His eyes told her nothing, and the lines of his face were a mystery to her.

"How have you found your stay here thus far?" Hermione asked, trying to make conversation. "I'm sure Mrs. Weasley is a wonderful host."

She got a smile from him. "She wants to stuff me with food and make me marry her son's intended," he said, a hint of derision in his tone. "It is always loud there." He moved even closer, and Hermione took a step back, leaning against the wall by the door. "I am glad to be here, Hermione."

The way he said her name, accented and low in his throat, made Hermione bite her lip. This wasn't good. It was too close to the manner in which another man had, until recently, also said her name.

She tried to fake through it. "I'm also glad you're here," she told him. "It's always nice to see an old friend."

Something changed in his face. "Is it still that way, then?" he asked, looking at her intently.

"What way?" she asked. She knew she was lying, she knew it and she couldn't meet his eyes because of it.

He gave her a twisted, crooked smile. "Things have changed, Hermione. We are no longer schoolchildren. All the excuses you gave me so long ago- we live in the same place now, we have the same goals. You are of age, I am of age. I will fight in this war with you- I will not condemn you to a life as a- a- what did you say?"

"A Quidditch groupie," Hermione said, raising her head to look at him. "That wasn't the life I wanted then or now."

Krum nodded, reaching out and taking her hand. Hermione let him, apprehension rising in her belly. "Hermione, please. Give me a chance. If you again say to me you just want to be my friend, then I will be your good friend. But I am wanting to give you more than that."

It would be so easy to say yes. Already she missed the feeling of being wanted, of being loved. Of being held, of being kissed. If she said yes, that would show him- he wasn't the only man who would ever want her, despite the traitorous thoughts that had run through her head all night. And Viktor was handsome enough, and he had been good to her while they had been together. There was no harm in it, not really. Except- except there was. Even now she could recognize that it wouldn't be fair to her or to Viktor.

His hand had a nice, calloused weight in hers, but it felt too wrong. Hermione pulled away. "I can't, Viktor," she said, looking at the floor again. "And I am still in school. I have two more years left."

"I will wait for you," said the Quidditch player. "I will-"

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head. "I can't, Viktor," she said again. "At least not right now. With the Order and the war- I can only focus on so much. It wouldn't be fair to you."

Krum sighed, a look of defeat on his face. "At least I have tried," he said, then offered her a weak smile. "A friend I will be, then."

Hermione opened her arms, hugging Viktor quickly. "Thank you," she told him, then let him go. She opened the door, slipping out of the room and leaving Krum behind her.

* * *

A day later, Hermione slipped through the illusion of Safe House Three and into the house proper, breathing in the quiet and calm. Thank goodness. She didn't think that she could stand another moment under Molly Weasley's watchful eye.

Now was the time. She had been building up her courage to do this, to talk to Severus properly, and each time she had reached for her wand to tap the watch and alert him, her courage had failed her. They needed to talk, more than they had last time. What had happened then wasn't the two of them talking, it was Severus talking at her.

Resolved- her hands still trembled, but at least they obeyed her- Hermione tapped her watch quickly, watching as engraved letters appeared then vanished.

_ We need to talk. _

The number three on the watch had illuminated at the same time- he would know where she was. Now all that was left to do was wait. The two chairs by the fire were empty, but Cedric could return at any moment. She retreated to her room to wait for him.

She didn't have very long to wait, but it was still enough time for her stomach to churn uneasily and her heart rate to speed up. When she heard the light knocks at her door, she stood quickly, banging her knee on her desk, and went to answer. Her palms were sweaty and her hands shook.

But when she saw his face, Hermione's breathing calmed. This was  _ Severus.  _ It would be alright- the harsh lines of his face might have seemed ugly to someone else, but they calmed her and comforted her.

"Come in," she said, hazarding a small smile.

It wasn't returned. "We can't do this in your room," he snapped. "The practice room."

A cold edge of fear entered the space between her ribs. The smile fled her face. "As you wish," she murmured to his back, already retreating down the hallway. She followed him to the practice room quietly, her nervousness returning.

The practice room, thanks to magic, didn't smell like the usual Muggle combination of sweat and rubber. Instead, it smelled like the cleaning potion the house-elves used, and something faintly like Severus' own cologne. Hermione was half sure that particular smell was all in her own head, just a memory of being in here day after day with him, the smell of Severus sinking through her memories of the room into its actual presence.

"You said we needed to talk." Severus faced her, his arms crossed over his chest. "I thought I had made myself clear yesterday."

"You made yourself perfectly clear," Hermione replied, voice as strong as she could make it. "I was having a harder time getting my thoughts out."

His eyebrow arched perfectly, a scowl staining the neutrality of his face. "Then  _ get _ them  _ out _ ."

Hermione mirrored his posture, crossing her own arms across her chest. "You didn't give me a chance to speak yesterday, Severus, so if you interrupt me now I'll Silence you and tie you to a chair."

"You'd have to get me first," he snapped.

"Don't try me," Hermione hissed, her face turning terrible. "I will, Severus, you know I will."

Their eyes met and it was a battle of wills- he didn't slip inside her mind, but the steeliness of her gaze told him exactly what she was thinking. Knowing that she was serious, he did the only thing that he knew to do- wave a hand at her sarcastically, telling her wordlessly to go ahead.

She let out a quiet breath. "You were making all the decisions yesterday," she told him, still meeting his eyes. "You decided that this was too dangerous, and we couldn't do it. But you didn't give me a choice." She stressed the last word. "I think that we can make this work."

"How?" he spat. "How on earth-"

"Shut up," she said, voice going cold. "Last time I'm warning you."

His scowl deepened, but he remained quiet.

"I think that we can make this work," Hermione repeated again, more forcefully. "We just have to be more careful. We don't mix work and play- when you visit to give a report, it's that and nothing more. When you visit just to see me, it's just that. We separate that part of our lives. I can compartmentalize, you can compartmentalize- we just separate the two lives. You've done it before- you have Severus the Death Eater and Severus the Order Member- why can't Severus the Man exist too?" She held a hand up, hastily adding, "Rhetorical question. But think about it. I've been able to separate Hermione the Adult and Hermione the Child, and I could add to that as well. We- we just make it work. We try again. We don't give up." She took a step closer to Severus, keeping her gaze neutral, refusing to plead with him. "What do you say to that?"

Severus closed his eyes for a long moment, remaining silent as the moments ticked by. Hermione could hear her heart beating in her chest, the blood rushing through her ears.

"No."

All the air fled her lungs, and for a moment all she could do was gape at him. "What?" she managed, when she had regained her senses.

"No," Severus repeated again. "We can't.  _ I  _ can't. Maybe you could split yourself into a third person, but two is more than enough for me. I only have so much energy- what I would take away from each of my performances to give you time and attention could be what would get me killed at the Dark Lord's feet."

"Severus-" Hermione tried-

"I said no!" he roared. "Gods damn it all above, Hermione, I can't do this anymore!" He turned away from her. "Do you think I want to be killed because all I can think of when I am in front of  _ him _ is your face as I tell you that we just kissed for the last time?"

"I didn't kn-"

"Of course you didn't bloody fucking know!" shouted Severus, and when he turned back to her his face was burning with rage. "You were in my mind and clouding my thoughts and when he looked inside my head he found you."

Icy fear ran down her back, but Hermione said, "I don't care."

"You should," said Severus darkly. "I explained it away this time- thinking of Draco's task- but I won't be able to do it the next. The next time, it's my head or yours."

"Mine?" She felt stupid, so stupid...

Suddenly he was stalking toward her, grabbing her face, holding his chin with harsh fingers. "Your pretty little head," he sneered. "Because if it comes to a choice between saving my skin and giving you up to the Dark Lord, which do you think I'd take?"

It was just the sounds of their breathing- his panting, her fluttery breaths.

"You wanted a choice, Hermione?" His voice was still velvety smooth around her name, making something in her stomach clench. "Here's your choice. Severus Snape or Harry Potter." He leaned in close, making her think he might kiss her before his lips went to her ear. "Because they won't have to torture a single thing out of you because I can make you give it to me in a heartbeat. What I don't already know, that is."

She pushed him away from her, tears burning at the back of her eyes. "Don't say such horrid things to me," she whispered. "You can't fool me, Severus- I know the kind of man you are and this isn't it!"

"It could be." His voice was cold. "So easily it could be."

Anger and sadness were rising in her, fury that felt like when she had been seven and had gotten lost outdoors in January and her entire body had felt numb until she had been found and brought inside and the heat made her veins explode with fire and ice at the same time. The anger was cold, the sorrow was heat. She wanted to hurt him, she wanted to make him suffer, she wanted to fling her arms around him and cling tightly as she wept.

"You know what would be easy?" she cried, her voice going unnaturally high. "What would be easy would be to go up to Viktor Krum right now, wake him up, and tell him that I changed my mind. What would be easy would be to kiss him. What would be easy would be to encourage Ron's crush. What isn't easy is loving you and I do that despite all of this bullshit you come up with because-" her own words faltered in her mouth. His face was impassive, staring at her with no feeling.

"Finished?" he asked. "Trying to make me jealous won't work, Hermione." It was the first time he had said her name in the conversation, and it felt like something had popped near her heart. He moved closer to her, his hand reaching out to stroke her jaw.

"Severus-" she tried to say, but his thumb pressed her lip.

"I have resigned myself to the likely event that you won't wait for me, that even if you did that the probability that this war ends with both of us alive and in love with each other is slim. I'm not holding you to anything, Hermione. Go be with Krum if you want Krum." There was a tight pain in his eyes that belied his words, but he pressed on. "Just- just keep focused on your work as well. If you want out of all of this, just talk to Dumbledore. Sort out your priorities, figure them out, and then make sure that what you are doing is in the best interest of the Order." His voice was smooth and soft, his hand on her face was warm.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, pressing her eyes closed to stop the tears that were starting to leak. She could feel as his other hand went to her face, as he tried to brush away her tears with his thumbs.

"Don't cry." It wasn't like when Harry or Ron pleaded with her not to cry- when they did it there was always a faint note of panic, the sense that they were scared by her tears. Severus just sounded defeated, exasperated almost. "Miss Granger."

When she opened her eyes, his face was distorted through tears. He wiped at her cheeks again, holding her face with both hands. "I am doing this for you, for the Order, and for myself," he said finally, looking down at her.

"Although not in that order," Hermione spat at him. "Fuck off, Severus." She pulled away from him and turned her back. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Hermione used all of her strength to pull the emotions away from her mind, to lock them behind a glass wall. She could see them, still, but the tears stopped and her heartbeat returned to normal. She pushed her magic at her face, wiping all traces of her tears away. Only when she felt calm, dangerously so, did she turn to face him.

"You don't want to do this anymore, we don't," she said, folding her arms and meeting his eyes. "And we do it on my terms. We still work together, but we interact face-to-face as little as possible. You leave reports-  _ detailed _ reports- on my desk. I do the same for yours. I don't want to see your face or hear your voice outside of Order meetings. You don't get to kiss me, and then say you regret it, you don't get to give me gifts or check up on me because you are concerned for my safety. We have a strictly professional relationship. Am I clear, Professor Snape?"

As she spoke his face had changed from open to closed, and his eyes had gone harder than she had ever seen them. "Crystal, Miss Granger."

She nodded sharply. "Then leave."

With a sneering nod, he swept out of the room.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore peered at the missive in front of him, frowning slightly.

…  _ I can't quite tell if she's still as upset as she was... _

…  _ at least he isn't visiting Safe House Three as much as he used to... _

_...She pretends she's okay and works all the time... _

The girl's misery hadn't been his intention at all, and in fact, he hadn't expected the level of despair that had been reported to him.

_ I did everything right _ , thought the Headmaster wistfully.  _ I tried to separate them easily- putting Cedric with her at the house, bringing back her old flame, assigning her a mission she couldn't tell him about... it shouldn't have come to what it did. I shouldn’t have had to have even needed to speak to Severus about this in the first place. _

But the quality of her work was as good as it had ever been, as was Severus', even if he was taking risks. 

_ For the Greater Good. It's all for the Greater Good. _

Now, at least, Molly and Moody were more on his side than ever. Even if the strange friendship between Severus and Hermione had been broken, at least it was all for the Greater Good.

* * *

The rest of July created its own terrible pattern for Hermione Granger. Splitting her time between Grimmauld Place and Safe House Three created a set of complicated logistical problems, which she had to navigate. At least Cedric didn't ask too many questions- he just accepted with quiet awkwardness that she was literally in two places at one time.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place meant lying awake next to Ginny's quiet snores and occasional sleep talking at night until she fell into a fitful sleep. More than once she awoke in a cold sweat, terror pinning her to the bed with half-remembered graveyards and halls filled with dusty prophecy still creeping at her mind. Worse were the nights she awoke with lust pulsing between her legs and her breasts heavy, and  _ his _ name on her lips.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was also dusting and washing and homework, playing chess and reading books in the library all afternoon. Spending time with Harry and Ron didn't annoy her as much as it used to. Instead, it was comforting to have a thread of normalcy, something that had remained constant since she was twelve years old. Krum and Ginny were new additions, which was also nice. Viktor was willing to play chess with Ron or gobstones with them all, but was also a presence with a book in the library when they were all together. Ron got over his hero-worship quickly, and before long, Viktor was teaming up with Harry and Ron to play pranks on the girls.

However, Number 12 Grimmauld Place was also the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, which meant using her Time-Turner to attend meetings as one version of herself sat with Ron and Ginny and complained about being left out. It meant a steady stream of Order members trickling in and out the door, including Severus Snape.

She saw him three times.

The first was at the meeting and she had time to prepare. Hermione made sure to have Harry on one side, Viktor on the other, and Tonks in front of her. It meant she was at the far end of the table from Severus, which was the way she liked it. For the entire meeting, she took notes, concentrated on the reports in front of her, and gave her own report in her normal clear, calm voice. He had only spoken once, to say that he still had no information about what the Dark Lord knew about Harry's defenses, and his voice had rippled through her painfully.

The second time was at Safe House Three. Snape had gotten into the habit of asking Dobby to leave his report on her desk. At least twice she had been sitting at her desk when Dobby appeared, handing her the scroll of parchment. Both times her heart had shuddered knowing that he was just a floor below her, so close. But the second time she actually saw him she was entering as he was leaving.

They had stopped in the portrait room, just looking at each other. He broke the silence.

"Miss Granger." He nodded his head sharply, his nostrils flaring.

Hermione swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Professor Snape," she replied.

He went through the wardrobe and she through the portrait and that was all.

The third time was in Grimmauld again, right before a meeting. He had been early for some reason, too early, and had seen Hermione laughing with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Krum. Ron and Harry had been holding her arms as Ginny and Krum mercilessly tickling her. Their eyes had met and he had sneered at her before sweeping into the kitchen.

But other than that, her life was Severus-free.

At Safe House Three Hermione flitted in and out as required, grateful to have a quiet workspace when she needed it. There she compiled reports, researched Horcruxes, and made plans for her mission. She saw Cedric occasionally, but never for any real length of time. Tonks came over, some nights, and they drank wine and giggled and tried to alleviate each others' sadness.

She read book after book on Horcruxes, on Dark Magic, on spells that made her feel unclean. Some of the pictures haunted her dreams, so she tried not to sleep as much. Sometimes the urge to try a spell, just one, would come over her and she would have to stand up and put her wand on her bed or desk, anywhere away from her hand, so that she wouldn't give in to the temptation.

Nights when she worked late over reports, it was hard not to wish that a certain man would show up with a knock on her door as he had so many times before. It was hard not to tap her watch with her wand and ask him to come and see her.

All she had of him were the scrolls of parchment with spidery handwriting that told her exactly what she needed to know and answered all the questions she could possibly think to ask.

* * *

The task that Dumbledore had set her was coming along marvellously- by the end of July, she knew three possible locations of the cave that Tom Riddle had lured Amy and Dennis. She and Dumbledore had talked it over, and were quite sure that at least one Horcrux would be hidden inside the cave, once they could locate it.

Dumbledore also informed her that he was working on another angle, one concerning the Gaunt property, and that he would inform her when he knew more. That irked her a bit- his need to keep everyone in the dark unless absolutely necessary bothered her to no end- but she brushed it off.

The first week of August, Hermione and Bill Apparated to each location, testing them for residual magic. The first that they visited showed nothing; the second looked promising until they figured out that it wasn't human magic, but mermagic.

The third, however, was almost deceptively quiet, the entrance hidden in the wall of a cliff that was nearly impossible to reach. It was only the fact that it was the last one that made Hermione insistent on investigating carefully, which resulted in a disturbing discovery. A wall in the cave that demanded blood for passage- it reeked of Tom Riddle to Hermione, reeked of a power-hungry boy and a power-hungry youth.

"This is it," she told Bill. The man's face was barely visible in the dark of the cave, where the sunlight from the entrance had all but died. The sunlight lingered faintly on his earring, sending small reflections across his handsome face. "We found it."

Bill breathed out heavily. "I can feel some nasty stuff behind this wall," he said, frowning. "Real nasty stuff. We should be prepared for everything."

Hermione nodded, then led the way out of the cave. "I'll meet with Dumbledore now, and we should plan the attack sometime within the next week," she said, turning her face up to the sunlight and the spray of salt. The cliff looked over the sea, jagged and impossibly steep.

* * *

"We found the cave where Tom Riddle took those children all those years ago," Hermione told Dumbledore, quiet pride in her voice. Her hands were wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. It seemed an odd beverage for the middle of an August day, but Scotland was nowhere near as warm as it should have been. She appreciated the warm and comforting beverage, especially after the frankly creepy cave.

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, his eyes twinkling at her softly. "This is why I had such faith in you, Hermione. I knew you would not rest until you had found it."

Hermione smiled softly at him. Once upon a time that praise would have made her beam at him. But, even in the sunny office with Albus smiling at her, she couldn't forget the sheer panic in Severus' face and body the night he bade her come to him and avoid the portrait. Albus Dumbledore was not a man to be underestimated. As pleased with her as he might be currently, there was no telling what might happen if she displeased him tomorrow. "I want to plan to recover the Horcrux next weekend. Sunday should give us enough time to prepare."

"I agree," said Dumbledore. "Very well. Sunday it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 45. 
> 
> In exciting news, one of you lovely folks suggested I make a KoFi page - so I did! Link is on my bio or searchable by ausland! If you are enjoying this, know that I only actually have 61 chapters written - and we are no where near done! But I did make an agreement with myself that I will spend at least 15 minutes writing per coffee (which now means that I need to do 165 minutes of writing today, yay! Since I'm not working anymore, any little bit helps. :) 
> 
> I adored all the comments on the last chapter, and will be answering them all as soon as this is posted! I do admit to cackling gleefully at all of y'alls reactions to the angst. Never fear - there is MUCH more angst to come.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!
> 
> So many comments and kofis! Ugh you guys are so amazing. I'm loving all of the support. On to the next chapter! And many thanks to my beta Sorasradust who catches my typos.

**_Chapter 46_ **

The air was tight in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The Order of the Phoenix had gathered to meet as they normally did on Wednesday nights, but there had been worse news than usual. Hurricanes that were actually giants. Suicides that were actually Dementors. Three Muggle families found mysteriously dead, that were actually Death Eater killings.

Dumbledore sighed at all of them, peering over his half-moon glasses. "My friends, it is the nights like tonight that make an old man feel weary, that make this war we are fighting seem hopeless."

_ It kind of is hopeless, _ thought Severus bleakly.  _ His power grows greater every day and yours seems to do nothing but diminish. _

"But we are far from lost," the Headmaster continued. He smiled, singling out one face in the crowd. "In fact, in the midst of all of this, we have in fact found a way to strike a blow against Lord Voldemort." The usual accompaniment of gasps and faint shrieks and coughs followed the Dark Lord's name. A ripple of pain shot up Severus' arm. "Hermione Granger's special mission has yielded some beneficial results. We are now poised to secretly injure Tom Riddle himself."

Whispers rose, and heads turned to look at Hermione. Severus held out for only a moment, then turned to look at her as well.

Hermione held her head up high and proudly. Her hair had been drawn back in a complicated knot, to keep it out of her face. It left her slender neck bare, apart from two chains, one silver and one gold.  _ She still wears the necklace I gave her. _ That thought made the painful ache in his chest (the one that had been there since the last time he kissed her) ache more. His gaze travelled back up her neck to her face, to her quietly beautiful features. Her eyes were large, dark, kind. For the briefest of moments, their eyes met.

And then her gaze was on Dumbledore and she was smiling. "Don't make any promises, Albus. We haven't done anything yet."

"And the Order wishes you the best of luck in your endeavors, Hermione," said the Headmaster fondly. "And if Riddle knew what you were going to do it would strike fear into the withered raisin he calls his heart."

The Headmaster had played his cards right- a ripple of hope had spread through the crowd. A few people laughed weakly, and the overall gloom dispersed a bit.

"Thanks, Albus," Hermione said wryly. "Is that all for tonight?"

"Yes, yes, my dear girl," he said, flapping a hand. "Goodnight, everyone, and keep safe."

The scrape of chairs pulling out and people starting conversations brought the room from still and quiet to a full roar of noise. Severus scowled, rising and making to leave immediately. A deep curiosity was burning in him, though- he didn't like the idea of Hermione striking a blow against the Dark Lord himself (well, he did like the idea of the Dark Lord being injured, but what he didn't really like was the idea of Hermione Granger in harm's way). What was she doing? Would there be danger involved?

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione gathering her team, leading them off through the hallway. There was a split second of hesitation, and then he followed them.

It was the work of a moment to disguise himself and creep along, to amplify his hearing so that he could pick up her words, even from outside the room. She hadn't warded it, which told him he was unlikely to learn anything important. He wasn't going to hear anything but her voice, but that was enough for him.

"We head out this Sunday, all of us," Hermione was saying. She had an authoritative ring in her voice, one might have made him smile in another time. His face remained stony, though, his hands clenched.

"Sunday?" asked Cedric. "That's soon."

"It's better to move fast than to wait," she replied. "Bill, bring everything that you think you could possibly need over to the Safe House, and I'll put it all into a bag I made. I don't know if we'll need everyone, but at the very least it'll be Bill and me."

_ Everything you could possibly need? _ That echoed uneasily in Severus' head. He didn't like that idea. He didn't like even thinking that she might be going into danger.

"Everyone dismissed," Hermione said. "Have a good night, and I'll see you all on Sunday."

There was a brief moment when Viktor, Bill, and Cedric left the room, where Severus pressed himself against the wall and held his breath. The left down the corridor, joking softly, and he focused on the higher voices still in the room.

"Right-o," said Tonks. "If that's all, I think it's time for us to get back to the Safe House. Or we could go to my mum's- how does some cheap wine and some telly sound, Hermione?"

"Fantastic," Hermione said, and he could tell from her voice that she really was happy with the idea. "We can get mildly drunk and bitch about our fucking miserable love lives."

"I'll drink to that," Tonks said with a sigh. "What do you want to watch? Crap telly or something that doesn't have a shred of romance in it?"

"Both," Severus heard her say, and he just knew she was rolling her eyes. "And we should do nails. If we are going to face death on Sunday, we should do it in style."

They opened the door, leaving. As she passed him, Severus could smell the shampoo she used on her hair and the lotion she rubbed into her skin every night after she showered or bathed, and the scent of her perfume- all of it hit him in a moment and he just wanted to crush her to him and kiss her, regardless of the blue-haired Auror next to her.

And then they were gone and he was alone again, and a foolish plan was brewing in his mind.

* * *

It was nearly one in the morning when Hermione Floo'd into Safe House Three. She hadn't liked the idea of Apparating while a bit tipsy, especially Apparating through the illusion, and Tonks had been tipsier than she had been.

Gods, that had been fun. This new and old relationship with Tonks was something that Hermione had never thought about seriously before. Sure, when she had been thirteen and Tonks had been nearly twenty they could be friends and have a good time with each other, but the fact remained that Tonks was nearly six years older than her. Now things were very different- with her Time-Turner use, Hermione was not sixteen but nearly twenty herself and Tonks was twenty-two.

Even so, Hermione had always dismissed girls' nights as foolishness- there was always so much to do and so little time to do it in. She had thought that painting nails and watching a movie would be a waste of time- let alone talking about boys. But... she had needed it. Hermione needed human contact, she needed someone to talk to, and god damn it, she needed to talk about boy problems and how much it sucked to get a period nearly every two weeks because she was compressing so much time into so few days. And Tonks always had advice- good and bad, from what concoctions to drink to get rid of cramps to what Hermione's mystery boyfriend should shove into various orifices (usually the objects suggested were covered in sharp pointy things). It was a relief to be able to talk to someone about something that wasn't the war. Something normal, something that could let her pretend she was a normal teenaged witch.

The fire in the living room was already banked, so Hermione made her way up the spiral staircase, yawning widely. The thought of bed seemed very appealing right then. Bed, and then turning back to do some work.

_ I should sort out what I'll need to take with me tomorrow when I leave my room so I won't waste time gathering it and bump into myself, _ she was thinking as she opened the door and flicked on the light.  _ I don't want another close call- HOLY FUCKING SHIT! _

"Stupefy!" the spell was out of her mouth before she even registered the person in front of her.

Severus toppled to the floor, a surprised expression on his face.

"Fuck," Hermione said under her breath. Quickly she closed the door, then silenced the room, praying that Cedric hadn't heard the thump of the body on the floor. Once she made sure that no one would be bothering them, Hermione collapsed onto her bed. Crookshanks mewed, glancing from the man to his mistress.

"Shite," she whispered. She needed to wake up Severus- what the bloody hell was he doing in her room anyway?- and brave the wrath she would surely face for Stunning him.

He was just sprawled out on her floor, defenseless. His skin was stretched tight over his face- he hadn't been eating enough, she knew it. His nose cast a shadow onto his face like a sundial and his hands were rigidly curled at his side. He made her chest hurt.

Hermione drew in a ragged breath, covered her face with her hands. What the fuck was he doing here, in her room? Why on earth would he be there? Did he want to apologize? Say that his weeks of foolish behavior had been a mistake, to take her back?

Well, she wouldn't put up with it. What had Tonks told her?

"I don't deserve to be jerked around," Hermione whispered to herself. "I don't deserve to be treated like a girl. I am a woman and I deserve to be respected by the man I choose to love." Her cat yowled in what seemed like agreement.

_ Except love doesn't really feel like a choice when I look at him and my chest aches and I still feel better for some stupid blasted reason because I'm close to him. _

Hermione took a steadying breath, then stood up. She would put him on the bed- at least that would be more comfortable than the floor. The magic was done in a minute, and then she was reviving him.

His eyes flew open, his body stiffened, and then he relaxed, closing his eyes.

"You Stunned me, you blasted girl," he finally said. At the very least, there was no anger in his voice, just annoyance.

"Why are you in my room, Snape?" Hermione asked, forcing her voice to go frosty. "I have every right to Stun the strange men I find in my room."

With a groan he sat up, flinging his legs over the side of the bed to brace himself. "Don't act like I haven't been in here before, at your request," he snapped, looking up at her.

Hermione glared down at him. "I thought we were going to pretend that it had never happened. Why are you here?"

He glowered at her. "What is happening on Sunday?"

"As far as you are concerned, nothing is happening on Sunday because it's none of your business. Next question," Hermione said tartly.

"I need to know if you'll be safe," protested Severus. "It-"

"No, you do not," Hermione replied quickly, cutting him off. "I told you- you aren't allowed to check up on me because you think I might be in danger. Whether you believe it or not I'm an adult. So if you don't have any reason to be here, get out." It hurt to say those words to him, to try to make him leave her. It felt like the opposite of what she should have been doing. It felt wrong.

Carefully he tried to stand, and wavered a moment. Hermione's arm went out to him involuntarily. She yanked it back sheepishly, and he gave her a look- complete with a raised eyebrow- that told her,  _ I saw that. You do care. _

"I was just concerned," drawled Severus. "How much does Nymphadora Tonks know about our previous relationship? Because I didn't know pretending like it never happened means telling all your girlfriends as you paint each other's nails." He cast a disdainful glance at the now dark red nail polish on Hermione's hands. She clenched her hands into fists, obscuring the polish.

"She's my friend, she's in a similar situation, and she doesn't know your name or anything that might tell her who you are," Hermione snapped. "So bugger off."

"I can see that once again the  _ lovely _ Miss Tonks is making such an impression on your language, Miss Granger," said Severus. "Very well."

He walked over the door, the tightening of the muscle in his cheek telling Hermione that he was hurting from the fall and refusing to show it. "Goodnight, Professor Snape," Hermione said suddenly.

Severus looked back at her, his grey eyes meeting hers. "Goodnight, Miss Granger. Do be safe on Sunday- I invested so much time and energy into your training it would be a waste to see it squandered in death."

He opened the door and disappeared, leaving Hermione feeling very much alone. As soon as she knew he was gone, she numbly began to undress, slipping into bed.

God, the bed smelled like him, like parchment and herbs. It smelled good, too good. It smelled too much like the times they had fallen asleep together on the bed that wasn't quite big enough for two people, squished together and a bit too hot and still in heaven. Hot tears pressed at her eyes, the first ones she had cried over Severus in a while.

_ At least he was concerned about my safety _ , she thought miserably.  _ This- feeling this miserable- is the reason I told him he wasn't allowed to do that. Bastard. _

* * *

As soon as Hermione landed on the cliff face, her nose was crowded with the smell of the sea. Gulls shrieked overhead and the water was loud and violent as it struck against the rock. The sun was far too hot overhead- it seemed that the Dark Lord's weather spell did not stretch as far as this forsaken outcropping of rock.

There were several more pops as the rest of her team landed beside her. Bill landed flat on his feet, just in time to catch Tonks, who stumbled as she appeared in midair. Hermione reached out a hand to steady Cedric when Viktor practically Apparated on top of him.

"This is it," she said, gazing around them. "It's in here. Under us, can you feel it?" She planted her hands on her hips, looking around. Hermione had wrestled her hair into submission with a tight braid she then put in a bun. She and the rest of the team did not wear robes, but comfortable Muggle clothing that would not get in the way if they needed to fight.

Viktor frowned. "I thought it was a cave that we are supposed to be going to, no?"

Bill slung an arm around Viktor's shoulders. "I hope you can swim as well as you can fly, Krum," he said jovially. "We have to climb down, get into the glorified fissure in the rock that Hermione calls a cave, and then swim a way in before we get to the actual cave part."

Tonks sighed, then resettled her backpack on her shoulders. "That's why you wanted me to waterproof everything... and why we came at an hour until low tide. Got it. Where are we climbing down?"

"Over there," Hermione said, pointing. "But like Tonks said, we're working with the tides. "We want to get in and out in three hours max, or we're trapped in there until low tide rolls in again, which is in thirteen hours. We don't want to stick around if the Dark Lord figures out we're here."

Slowly the group made their way down the cliff face, the only sounds being a brief curse or oath when someone lost their grip on the ocean-slick rock or when a particularly sharp bit of cliff sliced an arm or ankle. Bill was the first one to reach the fissure in the rock containing the nondescript entrance to the cave.

He carefully placed a Sticking Charm on his feet, then reached into the pouch on his waist to pull out a few pale orbs. "The twins invented these," he told Hermione, a hint of brotherly pride in his eyes. "Let's see if they work as well as Freddie said they would.  _ Lumos _ ." When he spoke the spell, the balls lit up brightly.

"Fantastic," Hermione said, beaming at Bill. "Go ahead and toss them in." The darkness had been a large problem the last time they had gone in the cave- she was glad that Bill had figured out a way around it.

The water was just high enough that she had to swim rather than wade along the bottom of the cave. Finally, when her arms were growing tired, her feet brushed the ground. Behind her, the much taller Krum was already walking, and Cedric too behind him. "

"Like the Second Task, no?" Cedric said, grinning at Krum.

The Quidditch star laughed, the sound echoing around the small space. "I am being grateful that I do not have the head of a shark right now," he said. In the blue light of the orbs, he looked vaguely ghoulish. “And that Hermione is not unconscious.” His comment merited a few laughs.

When they exited the water, they cast spells to dry themselves. Together they all walked down the five steps into the first room of the cave. It looked as if it halted there, but it was an illusion. The air in the cave was damp and old and smelled of salt and rust. There was something thoroughly unpleasant in the air, something that made the hair on the back of Hermione's neck stand up. There was a sense of badness, of something that had gone terribly wrong, and under all of that bad feeling, there was the whisper of powerful magic that she and Bill had almost missed.

"This is my time to shine," Bill said jokingly, his words echoing around the antechamber eerily. "Am I good to get to work, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. "Everyone else, be ready for attack."

The quiet splashing of water on the rock and Bill's murmur of spells was the only noise. They were all on high alert- when Bill's voice rose suddenly, they all jumped.

Hermione swallowed down a rising of fear. This was the unknown. This was nothing she and Severus had planned for- and Severus. The last time she had seen him, they hadn't parted on good terms. The intense regret that flowed over her made her sick to her stomach for the briefest instant before she shoved down her emotions and locked them behind Occlumency shields. Severus would wait for another time.

"Got it!" shouted Bill, triumphant as a pale arch lit up in the stone. "Here!"

Hermione walked closer to it, using a few of her own spells to assess the arch. "It wants an offering," she said, frowning. "I can't tell what it is, though."

"I can," Bill said, frowning at the arch. "It wants blood. Pure blood, to be exact. "

Hermione bit her lip, stepping back. "How much blood?"  _ I have Blood Replenishers on hand, just in case. Hopefully not enough blood to incapacitate someone. _

The curse breaker's wand moved in a few short motions, making the arch glow brighter. "A lot," he said, his face grimly set. "Enough to severely weaken one of us." His gaze went to Cedric. "And it's you or me, right, mate?"

"Who goes, Hermione?" asked Cedric. "Me or Bill?"

"Cedric," Hermione decided immediately. "You two are the only purebloods, and we will probably need Bill's curse-breaking skills ahead."

Cedric sighed ruefully. "I expected that," he said regretfully. "It's not that I don't enjoy giving my blood for the cause, but how are we going to do this?"

All eyes turned to Hermione, expectant. "We have three vials of Blood Replenishing Potion in the medikit," she said, thinking fast as she spoke. "We'll give as much blood as we can, give you one vial, give more if needed, then cap it off there. You can take another half-vial, and then leave. Bill, you'll need to stay with me. Tonks, Viktor, who wants to take Cedric back to Headquarters?"

"I will be doing this," Viktor said after a moment. "Tonks is an Auror. She will be of more use to you."

Hermione bit her lip, then nodded. "Get him the appropriate help- I asked that one Outer Circle member in Healer training to be on standby, but if we need more we can call Healer Frey in- then come back here," she ordered. "We might need help." She took a moment, steeled her shoulders, then beckoned Cedric forward. "Let's do this. Tonks, if you could get the potion ready."

In a moment she had one of the nice knives Severus had given her in her palm. Cedric offered an arm to her, and she took his wrist. She could feel his thready pulse, beating fast from fear.

"I know what I'm doing," Hermione murmured. "Don't worry." With a tap of her wand and a muttered spell, she cast a Numbing Charm on his arm, thought about it, and cast another. "Ready, Bill?" When the redhead gave her a nod, she quickly drew her knife across Cedric's arm, allowing the blood to spray the wall.

Cedric went pale, from both the blood loss and the shock. Viktor, braced behind him, helped Hermione keep him on his feet.

The initial spurt died down, but Bill shook his head. "We need more," he said, frowning at the wall. "Sorry, Cedric."

Hermione used her wand and her magic to slowly pull a rope of blood from Cedric's arm, quelling her nausea at the shimmering line that stretched from them to the wall.

"I think I need that first potion now," Cedric croaked. "Tonks?"

An uncorked vial was shoved into his unneeded hand, and Cedric tilted his head back and downed it in one gulp. Some color went back to his face, but slowly it drained out again.

"Bill?" asked Hermione, keeping her voice calm. "How much more?" She hoped that the team couldn't see her wand arm shake, or that if they did they would attribute it to stress.

"Just a bit more," the older man said, his voice a bit strained. "Almost- there!" Where the blood-drenched rock had been, there was now an opening that seemed to lead to total darkness. Another wisp of fear curled in Hermione's belly.

Hermione cut off the blood flow immediately, then tapped Cedric's arm and healed the cut. A thick scar remained, but it was the best that she could do. "Tonks?"

Another vial of the chalky red potion was produced and given to the Hufflepuff. "Only half," Hermione warned. "Viktor will get you more at Headquarters."

The man nodded, then sipped at the vial until only half of it remained. "Got it."

"Thank you, Cedric," Hermione said softly. "You did what was needed."  _ We needed a sacrifice and you were it. _

He gave her a weak grin. "Next time, I get to see some action," he said jokingly. "Ready to go, Viktor?"

The two men left the cave, and Hermione, Tonks, and Bill entered the blackness.

It was pitch dark, but they could hear the lapping of water against rock. At Bill's command, the orbs rose into the air, brightening until they could see what lay before them. It appeared deceptively simple- a lake of black water with an island in the center, and upon that island a pedestal and a basin.

"What-"

"Shh," Hermione shushed her, closing her eyes and listening. As Severus had warned her so long ago, after taking the Polyjuice potion her hearing and eyesight had been slightly better than they had been. Now she listened as hard as she could. There was lapping of water against rock, but there was also something more, something-

"There's something in the lake," Hermione said quietly. "Something moving. Merpeople, maybe, or-"

Bill shook his head. "No, not merpeople. It's something Dark."

Hermione frowned, chewing at her lip. "And I'm guessing whatever it is does not want us getting across the lake." Briefly, she considered what spell she wanted to use, then shrugged. "Accio!" she commanded, concentrating on the basin.

A pale body rose out of the water, turning lifeless eyes on them for a moment before sinking back into its watery grave.

"Inferi," Bill said after a moment. "We need fire."

"We should wait before we attack them directly," Hermione said, her mind racing. "Our objective is to get in and out without the Dark Lord ever knowing we were here. I have a nasty feeling that the moment we attack his defenses he will know. We should avoid that at all costs."

Bill nodded, but there was a small frown on his face. "You're the boss here, Hermione."

"I don't want to confront You-Know-Who unless we need to," Tonks added. "We tiptoe."

"The question is, how do we cross the lake?" Hermione asked. "There has to be a way that the Dark Lord does it. Bill?"

"I'm on it," the curse breaker said, giving her a short nod. "The two of you can try to look for it too- try to feel around for a magical signature that you don't recognize."

Hermione looked around, evaluating the cave. She'd never seen anything like this before- she didn't like that there was only one exit and once they were in the middle of the lake, there was a lake full of Inferi between them and the way out. The greenish glow coming from the basin also worried her- she had no idea what was there, just a hope that it was a Horcrux.

Slowly, she took in deep Occlumency breaths, stretching out her power. It was hard- it didn't want to go far from her, but Hermione made it. She could feel the magical presence of Tonks, and then Bill, and far away, the malevolent power of the basin in the center of the lake. She could also feel the faintest hint of the power that had created the place- it wasn't natural. It had been once- she could tell that the lake had been here. In her mind's eye, Hermione could see a young Voldemort chanting, red and slanted eyes closed, and raising his arms as a pillar of rock rose from the center of the lake to become his island. She could see him commanding an army of the dead to enter the water, could see them marching in straight lines into the dark lake, walking farther and farther in as their tattered clothing dragged them down, until they sunk into the depths.

She drifted over the opening, looking at it curiously. Slowly, the edges had begun to close again. It would need more blood to open fully again, she suspected. But Tom Riddle's power was in the spells that had charmed that rock, and so she let her power flow over it, trying to sniff out the flavor of the Dark Lord's power.

What was power? She knew what power was in Severus- when he was in her mind the intensity of the power was like a small sun. But it had its own kind of form in her mind, a coolness, a safe feeling, the dangerous tinge of Dark Magic running through it. That tinge of Darkness was present in front of her, seeped into the stone in the form of heavy magic that had been laid upon it, Darkness that fed on blood and pain.

Moving away from the entrance, Hermione cast out her power again, pouring over every rock and stone and wall. There was nothing, nothing, nothing, until-

Something.

Just a touch, nothing she could be sure about. "Bill?" she called. "I don't know, but is there something here?'

Bill walked over, running his hand over the wall. His red hair was tied back, and she could see a line of sweat at his forehead. He was as nervous as she was at this situation, Hermione realized. "Maybe," he murmured. "I can feel traces of his power here, but I can't tell what it is."

As Tonks came over to join them, she misplaced a foot, almost sprawling to the ground. She was only stopped from rolling into the lake with Bill's quick reflexes.

"Thanks," she said, eyes wide. "I was just going to say that from over there, the rock pattern looks like a chain."

Stepping back a few paces, Hermione squinted her eyes, trying to see what Tonks had. When she tilted her head a touch to the left, the pattern appeared, barely raised against the rock. "It is a chain! Can you sense it with your magic?"

Bill pointed his wand at the wall, his voice rising in falling in a series of chants in a language Hermione didn't know. Slowly the chain pattern became more and more visible, until at last, it was almost out of the rock. Finally, Bill put a hand on it and pulled, and a real- albeit ghostly green- chain came away in his hand.

"There we go," he said, planting himself and heaving at the chain. "It's coming up."

Out of the water rose a boat the same eerie glowing green color as the chain. It was a tiny little thing, made entirely of magic.

"Is that safe?" asked Tonks, crossing her arms as she appraised it. "That doesn't look solid. I wouldn't put it past You-Know-Who to give us a boat that would dump us in the lake halfway there."

"I second that," Hermione said, going to the edge of the water to look at the boat. "Excellent job, Bill. How do we make sure it's safe?"

"Let me work on this for a moment," Bill said, rolling up his sleeves. "Give me five minutes."

Hermione nodded, then pulled Tonks aside. "I don't know how many that boat can hold," she said seriously, looking into the Auror's eyes. "But I think that you should stay on the shore. We need someone guarding the exit, and someone ready to fight if the Inferi come at us."

Tonks nodded, a small look of relief on her face. "That island is tiny- I wouldn't put it past myself not to slip."

Hermione shuddered at the thought. "That too. But be ready with some fire spells, okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Tonks said with a wink.

Another glance at the slowly shrinking entrance made Hermione's skin crawl. "And maybe blood too."

Tonks followed her gaze. "Merlin's saggy ballsack," she cursed. "Blood too, if need be."

"I got it," called Bill. "Both of you better come over here."

When both women were close, Bill folded his arms. "We have a problem," he said, eyes meeting Hermione's. "The boat will only hold one adult wizard."

"Fuck," said Hermione, hot anger running through her veins. "Um- how can it tell if there is more than one?"

Bill tapped the boat with his wand, muttered something, waited a moment, then turned back to her. "How much magic is in the boat. It's calibrated to You-Know-Who's standard, though, I'm guessing- so he can visit it. So about one and a half adult wizards would fit in here. Maybe two half drained adult wizards, maybe three mostly drained wizards."

"What are you magic levels at, Bill?" asked Hermione. "Tonks, you're about full, right?"

Tonks nodded, and Bill closed his eyes for a moment, testing his levels. "I'm a tad less than three-quarters full," he said after a moment. "This has taken a bit more out of me than I thought it would."

"Okay," Hermione said, leaning against the wall. "Let me think for a moment."

_ What do I know about magic levels? _ Hermione thought.  _ What do I know about this? _

_ Magic levels in adult witches and wizards can be drained by working magics that are too big for them. They can be replenished with food, especially chocolate, and rest. _

_ How can I drain my magic? _

_ I can store it. I can put it into something that I can reclaim later. I can work a big spell. _

Closing her eyes, Hermione sunk into herself, taking deep Occlumency breaths.  _ Where am I at? _

In her mind, she could see the well of magic that was her core. It wasn't as high as it normally was, but it wasn't anywhere near halfway drained. But lately, she had been tired and worried- she didn't have as far to go as she thought she might have.

Coming out of herself, Hermione opened her eyes and walked back over to Tonks and Bill. "I'm going to siphon off some of my magic and try to drain some more," she said, steel in her voice and eyes. "You should do the same, Bill. We leak off as much as we can, try to get down to half, and then go across the lake. Tonks is going to stay here-"

"I told him," Tonks interrupted. "Sorry- go on."

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione met Bill's eyes. "It'll mean we aren't at 100% once we get there, but at least it means that we can use the boat to get back."

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Hermione?" Bill asked, concern lining his face. "We don't know what we're going to face over there. I could go across, then come back and let you know."

Hermione bit her lip. "Are you sure the boat would return and go back again?"

Bill hesitated. "No," he said finally. "But I don't like the idea of getting over there with hardly any magic left."

"I don't either," Hermione admitted. "But I think it's our best chance."

There was a long moment when Bill searched Hermione's face. Whatever he saw there met his approval- he nodded shortly. "How are we getting our levels down?"

"I have a stone I can put some of mine in," Hermione said. "Which I'll give to you, Tonks, to hold on to. As for the rest, I can try to do something silly with wandless magic until I'm as far down as I can be safely."

From that point, it happened much faster than Hermione had anticipated. She poured as much magic into the pearl that Severus had given her as it could possibly hold without crumbling, then, hands shaking, unclasped the necklace and handed it to Tonks.

"If something happens to me, leave it on my bed," Hermione told her, folding her friend's hands around the pearl necklace. "He'll get it."

Tonk hugged Hermione tightly. "You'll be fine," she whispered to Hermione.

Then Hermione levitated Tonks with wandless magic until her head hurt. Her bones felt weak, her head was swimming. There- she was at half capacity.

"I'm ready," she announced, and Bill nodded.

"Me too," he said. The Weasley was pale, and more sweat was beaded at his collar and at the line of his hair, despite the cool air in the cave. "Let's go."

The boat rocked as Hermione stepped into it, and creaked at Bill stepped in. It shuddered for a moment, then began to sail across the lake. It moved fast, faster than it should have been able to. The entire ride, Hermione's heart was in her throat. Tonks on the shore grew smaller and smaller, and the island and the basin grew larger and larger. A few of the orbs followed them, lighting their way.

When she peered over the boat, Hermione could see pale flashes of bone-white limbs. When she caught a glimpse of an empty face and dark hair floating around it, she turned her gaze to the island.

All too soon the bottom of the boat scraped against the rock of the island. They were there, they were at the basin and a Horcrux- a piece of Voldemort's soul- was only inches away.

Hermione left the boat first, holding it steady as Bill swung his feet over the side and leapt to avoid the water. He wavered for a moment, but steadied.

"We're here," he said, giving Hermione a tired grin. "Two out of five."

She grinned back. "Let's see what we're up against."

They peered in the basin, looking into the greenish light. Whatever liquid filled the basin, it was only just translucent enough for Hermione to make out the shape of a locket at the bottom of the basin.

"That's it," she breathed. "Now we just need to get it."

Bill pulled out his wand, moving it in complex patterns over the basin. "Don't touch it," he warned. "Or you'll go up in flames."

Hermione stepped away from the basin, trying to ignore the shiver that went down her spine. "Charming," she murmured. "It's like he wants to drive us into the water."  _ Which would make the Inferi attack us, _ she thought.  _ Best avoid that if possible. _

Bill worked for the better portion of an hour, removing curse after curse from the basin. By the time he finished, his breath was coming hard and Hermione could see the strain on his face and hear the weariness in his voice. "Done," he croaked. "All that's left is to get rid of the potion. We can't go through it- the only way I can see is to drink it." He gestured to a simple goblet that rested on the pedestal, next to the basin of the potion. "Which is what he intended, I think."

Hermione glanced between the potion and Bill. "I don't think it's poisonous," she said slowly. "He'd want the person who made it this far to have a chance, I think. A futile chance, but a chance."

"Which one of us drinks?" asked Bill, his eyes fixed on Hermione. "Me or you? We can flip for it."

Hermione shook her head. "No. You have a family, you have a fiancee. I'll drink it."  _ There is no one to miss me when I'm gone. _

"You have a family too," argued Bill. "We should flip."

Hermione laughed hollowly. "I don't have a family," she said quietly. "I erased every memory of me from their minds and sent them away. If I die, I don't have a mother or father or lover who would miss me." W _ ould Severus miss me?  _ She held out her wand, waiting for Bill to take it. "If we don't know what the potion does, you should take this," she said.

As soon as the smooth wood was out of her grasp, Hermione reached out, took the goblet, and filled it to the brim with the glowing green potion. "I'll drink it," she said again, and took a sip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 46.
> 
> More Tonks, as promised, but also some more Severus "I can't verbalize my feelings" Snape. 
> 
> Next chapter will be up Saturday, as promised! I love every comment and kudo, and if you'd like, my Ko-fi page is linked on my bio!


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! 
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Sorasradust, as per usual for her edits!

**_Chapter 47_ **

It burned going down her throat. Oh, it burned like nothing else she had ever experienced- only the pain of the Cruciatus Curse had been worse. In her mouth it burned, but after she swallowed all that remained was a dryness, a kind of quiet thirst.

The first goblet wasn't bad. Bill watched her warily, waiting to see if she would fall or react in any way. "Hermione?"

"It's okay, actually," she said, giving him a weak smile. "I'm doing alright."

He nodded, but there were lines of worry on his face as she scooped up another goblet of the emerald potion. She drank this one without pausing for air, then went for the third.

The thirst was worse. When she finished the third she coughed hard, Her tongue felt dry, like it was coated in sand. Her mind felt foggy, Bill's pale face and long red hair seemed far away. She wasn't aware that she was swaying until Bill's hands on her arms steadied her.

"Hermione?" There was more than slight worry in his voice now, there was a thread of panic.

_ I should tell him I'm alright, _ Hermione thought dimly.  _ Yes. Tell him I'm okay.  _ "I'm- I'm fine," she said, her words slurring. "I think I need your help to finish, though."

"I don't think-" Bill began, but Hermione cut him off.

"William Weasley, you will force this potion into my unconscious mouth if necessary," Hermione said, forcing her words into crispness. "I want your word. This is bigger than me."

Bill hesitated for a moment, but finally, he nodded. "Yes."

_ That was why I wanted him here, _ Hermione thought dizzily.  _ He's the only one out of the other three who could hurt me if necessary. Good. _

One of Bill's large hands cupped the back of her head, and the other held the goblet full of potion to her mouth. Obediently, even though it burned, Hermione drank.

The visions started with the fifth goblet.

The graveyard, surrounded by Death Eaters and Voldemort himself in front of her. He was oddly transparent- through him, she could see the water of the lake- but still overwhelmingly sinister.

_ I'm going to kill him, Hermione Granger, and there is nothing you can do. _

"Take me instead," she moaned. "Please take me."

"Drink," said Bill. She drank.

_ Crucio. _

Hermione could hear her scream echoing through the chamber. Her throat rasped with dryness, she ached for a drink of water, a drop of water, anything to stop the burning.

"Stop, please, stop!" she screamed.

"This will make it stop," Bill promised her. "Drink, Hermione." She drank.

"Don't kill Harry, no, don't, please, take me. I'll go instead, don't take him, don't hurt him," she said, she knew she was babbling and that the ghostly figure of Voldemort didn't care about what she thought. Hermione thrashed, her hands clawing at the air and at Bill's face, but when he pressed the cup to her lips she drank. The burning was starting to be preferable to the thirst, the terrible thirst.

"Water," she croaked. "Please, Bill, give me water."

She saw his face clearly, without the ghostly figures in front of it. It was an odd contrast, the handsome youth and the terrible blankness on his face. "You need to drink the potion, Hermione." She drank.

Her insides were burning, her lungs were burning, her skin was burning. She wanted it all off. She wanted water. She wanted it to end. She had a choice though- there was the sanctity of her own mind, there was peace behind her walls, or there was her body. Hermione sank into her mind, only half aware of drinking more of the potion.

_ Severus was in front of her, his face harsh. _

_ I was using you, you stupid girl. Why would you think I loved you? _

"Because I love you," Hermione said aloud, relaxing for a moment against Bill. She didn't see the surprise on his face "Please don't leave me!"

_ Stupid girl. I never loved you. I whispered everything you told me in the ear of the Dark Lord, and- _

_ I hate you, Severus Snape. Leave me. _

_ As you wish. _

"No!" she shouted. "No!" The goblet was pressed to her mouth and she drank again.

Her mind wasn't the best place to be, she decided. Severus was there, and she didn't feel like facing him just then.

Back to her body she would go, then. Back to the burning and the thirst.

The goblet was scraping the bottom of the basin with each pass. Bill had never thought that the sound of the cup against basin would be like music to his ears, but it was. The girl in his arms was shaking with sobs now, whimpering, begging him to stop.

"I can't, Hermione, I'm sorry," he told her, holding her head up. "Drink now, we're almost done."

Her eyes were large and wet with tears, but she still drank. "Please don't leave me," she begged him, gasping after having drained the goblet. "I don't like the person I am without you!"

Bill simply scraped the bottom of the basin again and held the goblet back up to her lips. She drank until it was empty then pulled away. "No more," she whimpered. "No more, no more. Water!"

"I can't," Bill told her, his voice cracking. "No water yet, Hermione."

"But it burns," she croaked. "It burns, it burns, it hurts, make it stop!"

He was in the midst of giving her another goblet when a silvery form bounded across the water to them. The form was large and hairy, but other than that Bill could not tell what kind of animal it was. Tonks' voice came from the Patronus. "Viktor is back. Cedric's doing fine. What's happening?"

" _ Expecto Patronum, _ " cast Bill, wincing as he felt his strength leech into the spell. "Hermione drinking dangerous potion, send message for Snape to meet us. Almost have Horcrux."

Hermione clutched his arm as his Patronus ran across the waves. "Snape?" she asked.

"Yeah, Snape will help us," Bill told her, reassuring her. "Don't worry about it."

"No, no, the Dark Lord will find out, you have to keep him safe," Hermione said, head turning wildly. "No, Bill, you don't understand we have to keep Severus safe that's all that matters him and Harry need to be safe, it's our key to winning the war we need the Savior and the Spy-"

"He'll be safe," Bill said, holding the goblet up to her lips. "You need to drink now, Hermione."

"No, I need to get back, I need to make sure Severus is safe-"

Bill winced as her fingers dug claw-like into his arm. "Drinking this will keep him safe, Hermione," he told her.

Her eyes turned up to his, wide with hope and wet with pain. "Drinking it will keep him safe?"

"Yes," Bill lied. "Drink."

She gulped the potion down even as tears ran down her cheeks from the pain. There was one goblet left- just one and he could see something metallic glinting at the bottom of the basin.

"Last one, Hermione!" he crowed. "C'mon, just this last one!"

"Kill me now," Hermione moaned. "I can't do it, Bill, just let me die, it'll be okay-"

Bill blanched, but held the potion to her mouth. "Just drink it, Hermione, please."

She pressed it to her mouth and drank. As soon as she was done, Bill scraped the bottom of the basin with his hand and got the Horcrux. He held it up to the greenish light, examining it carefully. It was heavy and gold, with a serpent made of emeralds in the shape of an S on the front of the locket. He dropped it into a dragonhide pouch specially reinforced for the Horcrux and sealed it shut.

"We got it," he told the girl on the ground, collapsing next to her. "We got it, Hermione." He took the goblet from her, and filled it to the brim with water from a spell. "Here's some water."

But as soon as the goblet touched her lips, the water vanished. "No," Hermione whimpered. "Bill, I need water-"

"I think that the only source of water it will let you drink is the kind with dead bodies in it," Bill said darkly. Still, futilely, he tried shooting water into her mouth from his wand, conjuring a new goblet, and using a different water spell.

"It's not going to work," he said grimly. "Let's head back. We'll get you water when we get back to Headquarters, Hermione."

"Water," was all she said. "Get me water, please, Bill, I just need water and I'll be okay-"

Bill hoisted her into his arms. "Not yet, Hermione," he said gently. "Not yet. Your part is done, we'll take you home."

There were some black spots on his vision when he stood with her. His body was trying to draw on his magic, only to find nothing there. It had gotten this bad before- that had been an eventful day in Egypt- and it had also been worse.

When he stepped onto the boat, it creaked malignantly, but held. Slowly, achingly, it began to cross the lake to the distant shore where Bill could vaguely make out the figures of Tonks and Viktor.

"Almost there, Hermione," he said.

"Water," she begged, thrashing in his arms. "I need water!"

"Whoa-" She was weakly fighting him, trying to reach over the side of the boat for the choppy black water. "Stop- Hermione, stop! I can't Stun you because I don't know how the magics would interact, so you need to stop fighting me!"

Her struggling died down long enough for him to grab both of her delicate wrists in one hand, holding them tight enough that she couldn't move. He was half sitting on her, and still she was fighting to get to the water.

"Can this damn boat go any faster?" he muttered to himself. "Stop fighting, God damn it!"

When she tried to yank out of his grasp again, he felt something in her wrist pop. She let out a yell, going mercifully still.

"It's broken, I think," Bill said, a tinge of regret in his voice. "Sorry. Now will you stop fighting/"

"I need water," she whispered. "Bill, it's burning!"

Bill just held her tighter, wincing as she made a small noise of pain. "I can't have you leaping into Inferi infested water, Hermione, but we're almost there."

It seemed an eternity before the bottom of the boat scraped the shore. As quick as he could, Bill threw Hermione over his shoulder and jumped out of the boat. Viktor and Tonks rushed over, wands drawn.

"What happened?" Tonks asked, taking in Hermione's condition with a worried eye. "What kind of potion did she drink? Snape's sent at least three Patronuses bugging us for information about it. What- why are you holding her like that?"

"She wants water and the only water it appears she can drink in this cave is from that," Bill said, indicating the lake with a jerk of his head. "Viktor, can you take her? Careful- I think I broke her wrist."

The transfer of a still struggling Hermione did not go as smoothly as they would have wished. Still, in a matter of minutes, she was firmly in Viktor's grasp and Bill was relating information about the potion to Tonks so that she could send the Potions Master a Patronus with information about it.

"Let's go," Bill said, gesturing to the entrance of the cave. "We'll make it out just before the tide starts coming in."

* * *

The foyer of Number 12 Grimmauld Place appeared to be larger than it was, thanks to an ancient Black ancestor who had been good with the use of deceptive magics and the placement of decorative mirrors. With ten people in it, the space could still feel welcoming and not yet overcrowded.

And yet, when the foyer of Number 12 Grimmauld Place held a far-too-placidly calm Albus Dumbledore and a very still and very angry Severus Snape, it seemed like the air was far too tense and the mirrors made the room claustrophobic.

The Healer who had come to tend to Cedric Diggory had ducked her head into the foyer, then ducked back out just as quickly, reasoning that until there was a good reason to leave her patient's side (ignoring the fact that Cedric Diggory was already nearly restored to perfect health) she would stay at her patient's side.

Molly Weasley, eagerly waiting for the return of her son, was in the kitchen. There was the makings of a full tea in progress, her own way of keeping watch. She too had peeked into the foyer, and retreated back to a safer space.

Dumbledore sat on the steps, sucking at a lemon drop. There was no serene smile on his lips, no twinkle in his eye. What was present on the old man's face and in his demeanor had almost perfectly covered up his aching anticipation. Severus could feel it coming off of him, the desire to see if he had been right.

Severus himself was standing off to the side of the room, as far away as he could get from Dumbledore and still be facing the door. He stood still, eerily still, tension in every line of his body. His dark eyes were trained on the door, his ears were straining for the tell-tale pops of Apparition, his arms were hanging (far from loosely) at his sides. His wand was clenched in one fist.

The only sound in the room was his quiet breathing and the squelching sounds of Dumbledore turning the sour candy around in his mouth.

Finally, finally, finally it came- the sound of space splitting open for a brief sliver of time and depositing heavy bodies onto the stoop with a twin series of heavy thuds. The ears of the spy in the house quickly interpreted the noise as two Side-Along Apparitions- two people were injured or drained enough to have to be Side-Alonged and the second thud had been too heavy for just one person, which meant that one person- Hermione, he knew- was being carried.

The door swung open and Tonks and Bill staggered in first, followed by Viktor, holding a quietly moaning Hermione in his arms. Severus sprang into action, taking the woman's body from Viktor and starting immediately up the stairs.

"Please tell me that one of you three took care to get a sample of the potion," he snapped, taking the stairs two at a time. "I need to figure out what it was before I can start brewing an antidote."

"Did you get it? Did you find it?" Dumbledore's questions rose above his.

Severus turned on the stairs. "Stop for one minute, old man," he snarled. "She might die- let's take care of that first before you natter on about your precious mission!" Pinning Bill with his eyes, Severus glared down. "Did one of you take some of the potion with you?" He enunciated carefully, trying vainly to keep his temper in check.

There was uneasy silence behind him. There was anger and incredulity in his voice when he said, "None of you?"

"I was the only one on the lake with her," Bill said tiredly. He was swaying on his feet. At the sound of his voice, the kitchen door burst open and Molly came out, hugging him immediately. Bill swayed, one arm around his mother. "It wouldn't let us take it. It was spelled."

"Fucking bastard," Severus swore. "What did it look like? What did it smell like? What- the fuck?" A small hand had snaked up his neck, holding the back of his head.

Hermione's pleading eyes implored him, even as she held the back of his hair tightly. "Please, Severus, get me water, please, please-"

It hit him then, the feeling of her weight in his arms, the heavy realness of her, of human contact. Hermione Granger in his arms once more, an alien sensation. Her skin was soft and she was  _ there _ and he could smell her and an odd scent, like death and mold and peppermint.

"She just wants water," Bill said, shushing his mother. "Just a minute, Ma! The potion was green, bright green, and it glowed. It didn't have a strong smell- um- maybe minty? The whole cavern smelled weird."

Severus wrenched his attention away from Hermione and back to Bill. Still, she pleaded with him. "Why haven't you given her water yet?"

"It stopped me every time I tried," said Bill. "At first she did fine and could drink it on her own, but then she said it started burning, and then there were hallucinations and she- she begged for water."

His mind was racing- what was this potion?

_ 19 possibilities that are bright, glowing green. 248 potions that cause intense thirst, but only 129 of those cause hallucinations too. Of those 129, only six are bright, glowing green. The Elixir of Hamm'uh has a pungent grass smell- not mint. Five. Reamne's Draft causes the skin of the mouth to turn purple- _

"Open your mouth," he barked at Hermione. She obeyed, and he looked inside, then smelled her breath.  _ Not purple, definitely a minty smell but also mold and decay. Four, then. _

_ The Potion of Small Death causes hallucinations after three cups and death after six-  _ "Bill, how much did she drink?"

The man indicated the size of the basin with his hands. "About this much?"

_ Not the Potion of Small Death, then. Three. The Draught of Despair has a minty smell, yes, but not one of death and fungus- unless it's been sitting there for years and was left to ferment. If she had specific despair- inducing hallucinations, that might be it! _

"I think I know what it is," he said tersely. "Albus, I'll need someone to buy a pure gold cauldron and a straining sheet made of fresh goat's skin. I have the initial supplies I need here, but for the second and fourth stages respectively I need the other things-"

"Right away," Dumbledore said gravely.

Severus glared at him. "Make sure the goat was pure black or pure white," he said quickly.

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore agreed, but his attention had already returned to Bill, Tonks, and Viktor. "Did you get it?"

Bill dug in his pocket, and tossed a nondescript leather pouch to Dumbledore. "There it is," he said. "We-"

Severus didn't catch the rest- he was bounding up the stairs three at a time, getting Hermione to safety.

* * *

The pain and the thirst were horrible. Hermione remembered going on a hike with her parents on some holiday when she was a child, and hating every minute because she was hot and tired and most of all thirsty. Her father had forgotten the water bottles and her mother was angry at him and yet they kept going and going and going. She had cried, her mother had yelled, and her father had carried her the rest of the way despite the fact that she was much too big for such treatment. Then they had reached town, her thirst was alleviated, and the day had been almost forgotten.

Her thirst now was worse.

The only way she could make the thirst go away was to retreat into the dark part of her mind, the part with glowing red eyes and grass dotted with crooked gravestones and the cold gray eyes of a man who had once loved her but no longer did. That part of her mind was painful, but it was her body or her mind and she could only focus on one of them at a time.

She had felt some things, like her wrist breaking, like being passed from Bill to Viktor. Then she had been concentrating on her thirst, and she was acutely present in her body. The Apparition was painful, squeezing, and she had retreated to her mind to avoid the pain.

In her mind, Severus was holding her, his strong eyes were around her, and the worst part was that she knew that soon it would be over and he would look at her with those grey eyes that looked black as coal when he was angry and he would tell her that he hated her, that she was nothing compared to Lily. That she could only feel the solidness of his chest in hallucinations- for she was lucid enough to know that everything was nought but dreams even in the dreams themselves- made her despair. She knew her body was begging for water, that it was moving.

"Open your eyes, Hermione." It was his voice, commanding her. But her eyes were open? Oh- just in the dream they were open, not her body. But why was his voice in her real ears? Before she could sort through everything, gentle fingers were prying open her eyelids and she was looking into worried grey eyes, Severus' eyes, and his mind was in hers, seeing what she saw.

He pulled her back in her memories until she was standing in the cave, drinking the first sips of the potion. The only thought running through her head was,  _ now that he doesn't care anymore no one will really mourn me when I'm dead... _

Then she was hallucinated, seeing the Dark Lord and Severus himself, and then he was pulling out of her mind.

Hermione sank into her mind again, trying to get rid of the thirst. She didn't want to talk to him, to beg him for anything.

* * *

When Severus brewed, his mind seemed to leave his body and go to a separate plane, connected by a thin thread that told his hands what to do. It was a kind of Occlumency, certainly, a kind he had done since he was a schoolboy and a kind which certainly had influenced his talent in the mind arts later in life. Things became clearer as he brewed, even difficult potions where one would have thought that every fiber of his mind was concentrated on chopping ingredients or counting stirs or slowly pouring magic into the cauldron.

That crystal clear concentration and not concentration wasn't interrupted when Dumbledore returned with the materials he had asked for, or when a worried Healer came and examined Hermione.

"Why is she unconscious?" the woman asked.

"Because it's kinder than being awake at the moment," Severus had snapped. "Leave."

The Healer left.

He was taking a quick break, wiping his forehead of sweat when there was another knock on the door. "Enter," he snapped tersely.

To his surprise, Tonks poked her head in. "Hello, Professor Snape," she said, her eyes on the girl on the bed and not on the Potions Master. "I have something of hers, if you don't mind."

Severus frowned. "Can't it wait-"

"I don't think so," Tonks interrupted, looking at him. "It has some of her magic in it- don't you think she could use it?" Severus could see that she was holding a slender silver chain- on which hung a pearl. He swallowed hard.

"I'll take that, Miss Tonks," he said gruffly. "It would help." Brusquely he thrust a hand out, waiting for her to place the necklace in his palm.

The Auror hesitated, but when it was evident that Severus would not relent, she reluctantly poured the thin necklace into his hand. "Thank you, Professor."

"Off with you, Miss Tonks," he said roughly, nodding at the door before turning his back on the Auror and striding to Hermione. "I must continue my work."

He was aware of the woman watching as he carefully clasped the necklace around Hermione's neck, ensuring that the pearl sat in the hollow of her throat. However, when he looked back at the doorway, she was gone and he was left in peace to brew once again.

Dumbledore entered the room again close to his tenth hour of brewing. The base potion was done, and the delicate fourth step was simmering in the gold cauldron he was stirring every thirteen and a half seconds like clockwork. "Will she be alright, Severus?"

"Maybe," Severus said coldly. "If not, it's on your head. And you're the one who gets to tell Potter."

Dumbledore gazed at the girl lying prone in Severus' bed. "We should move her," he said. There was a calculating light in his eyes as he said, "I wouldn't want to put you in temptation's path, Severus."

"No, we shouldn't move her" he snapped, an urgent defensive need to keep her near him rising in his chest like fire. "I need to monitor her condition and brew at the same time, which won't happen if we're in two different rooms. As my makeshift Potions lab is here, we can't move her. And you don't need to worry yourself about putting me in harm's way- you didn't bother when a fucking werewolf was the aggressor, so don't pretend a teenaged girl concerns you so deeply."

The Headmaster, much to Severus' distaste, moved farther into the Potion Master's room. His gaze was still fixed on the girl in the bed. "It must bother you to have her here," the old man said at last. "Intruding into your private quarters."

"She's tolerable," Severus said, pushing down a wave of suspicion. "It doesn't bother me much."

"She looks so young like this," Dumbledore remarked softly. "It makes me wonder if we did the right thing, recruiting her, Severus."

Severus gave his boss an incredulous stare. "Now's a little late for that," he snarled.

Those bright blue eyes were turned on him. "You grew too close to her, Severus," he said quietly. "I did what I had to do. You know that. But did she ever say anything to you?"

"She wished she had been normal more than once," Severus said, refusing to look away from the headmaster's eyes. "But she recognizes why it had to happen. She's a smart woman."

Dumbledore looked away first, walking to the door. "Carry on, Severus. Send me word when you are finished." He swept out, leaving Severus alone with Hermione again.

Gods, it hurt to look at her face. It seemed as if she was just sleeping, but he had watched her sleep enough to know that this silent unconsciousness wasn't what she looked like at all when truly sleeping. When Hermione Granger slept, she slept wrapped around someone or something, either his body or a pillow. She made small soft whuffling sounds, not quite a snore and not quite anything else either. She didn't lay unnaturally still, on her back, with her hands limp at her sides, the red nail polish on her fingers slightly chipped.

Severus turned back to his potion. The pain in his chest didn't go away.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sank into his chair and, with trembling hands, withdrew the dragon skin pouch Bill had given him from a pocket in his robe.

As soon as it was open he could feel the malevolent energy from the necklace. The glimmer of gold at the bottom of the pouch was teasingly dull. Its weight and the dull shimmer and the clank as it fell onto his desk told him that it was real gold, and the tiny emeralds in a serpentine  _ S  _ told Dumbledore that it was Slytherin's locket. Most of all, the dark whispers of Tom Riddle's magic told him it was a Horcrux.

Triumph lit upon the face of Albus Dumbledore. The sweet taste of success filled his mouth, and his heart fluttered against his ribs.  _ One more in my grasp _ , Dumbledore thought.  _ One more. _

Smiling and humming softly, Dumbledore put the locket back in the pouch, and tucked in into his desk. He knew exactly how he wanted to destroy it, but he wanted Severus at the Dark Lord's side when he did. If the Dark Lord could feel them being destroyed, they would have to be even more careful with the others they would find. And they would find others- he had the fullest confidence in Hermione Granger.

If she recovered.

But she would, of course. He also had the fullest confidence in Severus Snape.

Not everyone did though. It seemed like every week Mad-Eye Moody or Molly Weasley was in his office complaining about Snape. At least since Snape and Granger had distanced themselves from each other, she was left out of the tirades he heard against the Potions Master and Death Eater.

His loyalties were constantly doubted, his influence condemned, his motives questioned. It wasn't as if the Headmaster minded that his Order distrusted their spy- on the contrary, if the distrust hadn't been there he would have found a way to spark it beyond what he already did- he minded that it was affecting the bodyguard he had chosen for Harry Potter.

See, as far as the Headmaster was concerned, the Order of the Phoenix needed a healthy distrust of Severus Snape for a number of reasons. Some of them were for the spy's own benefit- it would be disastrous for Snape's position in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle if it was revealed that the Order held too much trust for their spy. But it was also for less noble reasons. Keeping Snape alienated meant that the only person showing him any sort of care was Dumbledore himself. There had been a few worrying moments in the early days when it looked like Molly Weasley's mothering instinct might be strong enough to overcome Death Eater status, but a quick conversation about the deaths of Fabian and Gideon had put those stirrings to rest. It also meant that the only hope that Severus had for exoneration after the war came from the Headmaster- the others wouldn't speak up for him. Now Severus had a vested interest in keeping Dumbledore alive. Being alone also meant that he had no reason not to risk his life every day, something that Dumbledore was adamant not be disturbed.

However, Hermione Granger needed to be the golden girl. Her narrative had to read as a selfless girl who had given up her childhood for her friend, because she believed so strongly in him. She was smart, good with a wand, and above all clever enough to keep him safe. Seeing the brotherly love that Harry had for Hermione had gone a long way in making the Order trust her more than when she had seemed to be Severus' little protégée. Some of the Order had been scared of her- stories of her killing Death Eaters in cold blood had circulated, seeing the easy way she held herself and stood up to Severus, the way the man listened to her… no, it hadn't been good for his purposes.

It annoyed him to no end how she had somehow managed to worm her way up to a position of real power in the Order. He had never intended for her to be so entrenched in the day-to-day operations of the spy network, the vetting process, the dirty work. He had started by trying to overwhelm her with boring paperwork, trying to make her too busy to spend too much time with others. The Time-Turner had helped with her alienation from her peers. Her one goal, the one person whom she had to talk to was supposed to be Harry. He hadn't reckoned on the prickly Potions Master forming any kind of bond with the girl. But somehow she had turned out to be very good at paperwork, the way she was very good at every other bloody thing she set her mind to. And then Severus had shared information with her in passing and again and again, she had connected different pieces brilliantly until it was unthinkable for her not to handle all the reports coming in. She had the kind of mind that could process and remember the information and draw the conclusions few others could manage. Hermione Granger became invaluable to the Order, and he had not foreseen it, but he had taken advantage of it.

But it was better for the two to be estranged. Severus would continue to put his life in danger every day and Hermione would continue to serve the Order. If she survived, of course.

* * *

Hermione had been in his magically induced coma for two and a half days. It was a long time- he had watched as her eyes seemed to sink into her skull and her skin dried out, despite the stasis charms in the spell for the coma. When he lifted her so that he could make her drink, the bones of her spine were hard against his arms. She was so dehydrated that her skin felt papery and her lips were cracked and her breathing rasped in her dry throat.

Severus tilted the potion into her mouth, feeling his exhaustion in his own trembling hands. He had been awake for these past two days, and the weariness was seeping into his thoughts and his body, manifesting in dry eyes and hands that refused to stay still when not making potions. There his discipline had entered, his muscles remembering what to do as his mind turned itself inside out with worry over Hermione and his own fear.

A fair portion of his potions skills had gone into the milky liquid he was pouring down her throat. Theories he hadn't used since earning his mastery had been dredged up from neatly stored lessons, techniques that he had only performed a handful of times had been executed with only a moment of hesitation. It was for her, all of it was for her.

The last bit remaining in the cup he saved, setting it on his bedside table, on top of the book he had been reading the last time he had stayed in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. His right hand steadied somewhat when he raised his wand, but his tremors simply intensified in his left.

Nothing immediately happened when he released her from the coma. Her breathing stuttered briefly when the charms that had taken that function over had dissipated, but that was the only discernible sign. Slowly, Severus reached out to take her wrist.  _ To take her pulse, _ he told himself. He felt the fluttery beat against his fingertips, eyes closing as he counted.

Closing his eyes had not been the best of ideas; he felt the weariness dragging him down and making him reluctant to pry his eyes open once more.

A slight stirring and the feeling of fingers closing hesitantly over the hand that was over her pulse jerked him back into wakefulness. Hermione's eyes were still closed, but she was frowning. Under his fingers, he could feel her pulse speed up.

"Hermione," he called gently. "Wake up."

Slowly her eyes flickered open. They were still distant as she examined him, the frown never leaving. "Why am I still dreaming you?" she asked, her voice rasping. "Why won't you let me be?"

Her hand was gripping him tighter now, and her breathing was coming hard. If she hadn't been so dehydrated, Severus suspected that she would have been crying. "It isn't a dream," he said patiently. He pulled his hand from hers, reaching for a glass of water. "Drink."

Hermione downed three glasses of water before Severus made her stop. By the time she finished the third, she was sitting up on her own.

"I feel as weak as a kitten," she murmured. "I remember most of it, although I'm not sure if it was real or dreams. I thought I would die."

Severus noticed that she was refusing to look at him. "You've been in a coma- I induced it- for more than two days," he said finally. "But there wasn't a chance of my letting you die." He half regretted the words the second they left his mouth to linger in the air.

Her eyes closed suddenly, and Severus knew that if there had been enough moisture in her body, some would have been leaking out in the form of tears. "Stop."

He scowled darkly at her. "You mistake competence for affection." Her would-be tears sparked something dark and ugly inside of him, the beast that roared at him every night that he was a monster who had hurt the only thing he had ever cared for.

"I didn't," Hermione said simply, opening her eyes and drawing in a shuddering breath. She turned her head fractionally to look at him. "I know very well that you're telling yourself that you hold no affection for me anymore." Her voice was dreamy, but still hurt.

Something tugged hard under his chest, a feeling like a vase falling off a shelf. He closed his own eyes and inhaled sharply through his large nostrils. "I never meant to hurt you, Hermione." He waited, then forged ahead. "I never wanted you to find yourself in a cave thinking that you could  _ sacrifice _ yourself for the group because there was no one who cared. Tonks would miss you, Dumbledore would regret your death, Potter and Weasley would go ballistic. And I would mourn you. Just because we aren't lovers doesn't mean that I don't care about you."

"You were in my mind," Hermione said, but surprisingly there was no note of accusation in her voice, just deduction. "I'm assuming you had a good reason?'

"Diagnosis," Severus replied guardedly. "I didn't see much. I just needed to see what you had consumed." He scowled at her for a moment. "And don't jump down my throat- I was saving you at Dumbledore's request."

He saw the change in her face as if time had slowed dramatically. Something crumpled in her features, still half asleep. "I wasn't going to." She reached out a hand to caress his face, unaware of what her own body was doing. "Did I really hurt you that badly, Severus?"

_ What is she talking about? _ Severus reached up, taking her hand away from his prickly cheek. "I thought I was the one who had hurt you."

She shook her head. "No. I saw it in the dreams, the dreams from that potion-"

"The Draught of Despair," interrupted Severus. "It makes you see the things you hate and fear the most."  _ Like myself, _ he added silently.

Hermione frowned at him. Neither of them noticed that he had not relinquished her wrist. "I saw the Dark Lord, I saw the graveyard, I was hunted in the Department of Mysteries, I saw you and I played out a hundred times..."

Brusquely, Severus released her hand and stood. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you," he said, sneering because he had no other way to talk. "But considering I saved your life, I feel my debt is paid."

"No, Severus, wait!" Hermione cried, as best as she was able, reaching out to grab his sleeve. "You aren't listening to me, goddamn it!"

He stared down at her, then removed his sleeve from her grasp. He did, however, step closer to the bed. "And what am I not listening to, Miss Granger?"

Hermione pushed aside the bed covers, swinging her legs over the side and pushing herself to her feet with a groan. Although she swayed, for the moment, she was steady. "I figured it out," she told him, panting from the effort of standing "Yes, I saw you leaving me, but most of all I saw myself driving you away, being cruel to you, being hurt and refusing to bend."

"I don't understand," Severus growled. "It was me, I ended it."

"I know that," Hermione snapped back. "But instead of trying to prove to you how much I love you, I've been refusing to show you how much I'm hurting by pretending I'm not."

She was breathing hard from the exertion, wavering unsteadily on her feet. Automatically, Severus held out an arm to steady her, and she grasped it.

"I'm not going to give up," Hermione said earnestly. "You can try to drive me away all you want, Severus, but I'm not going to try to drive you away because that is what I am most afraid of."

There was silence and panting and then a knock at the door.

Molly Weasley entered, expression almost jubilant. "I heard voices, Severus, and I knew you had done it." She beamed at Hermione. "By Merlin, I can't believe you're standing already. Should she be standing, Severus?"

Severus scowled at the woman. "No." He gently pushed Hermione back onto the bed. "I'll leave Molly with the rest of your potions regimen. Follow my guidelines to their exact specifications. I'm off to rest, and I'll check on you in the morning. As you are currently in  _ my  _ bed," he gave a particularly vicious scowl- "I am going to Spinner's End."

With his tired head full of cotton and his thoughts in turmoil, Severus Snape did the only thing he could think to do: sweep out of the room as quickly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 47. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! As I am sure you caught - it was the real Horcrux in the cave. 
> 
> I look forward to all of your comments and kudos - and if you are feeling particularly generous, my Ko-fi page is linked on my bio (so many of you! WOW! I am amazing and humbled. Thank you thank you, thank you!) I've made an agreement with myself to write 15 minutes for every Kofi, and (surprise surprise) it's meant I actually finished Chapter 61 and got through half of 62! For context, it took me about a year to find the time to write the first half of 61... so not great. Also! I want to write another SSHG oneshot, so if anyone has any ideas or prompts... I'd love to hear them! I need some inspo. 
> 
> See you Wednesday!


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!
> 
> Another chapter - lots of reflection in this one!

**_Chapter 48_ **

Hermione lounged in the bath at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, relishing the warmth and the damp. Steam clouded the mirror and hung in the air, and she drew it gratefully into water-starved lungs. The old claw foot tub was made of heavy porcelain and ornate silver, its decadence highlighted by the peeling and faded wallpaper and the one small crack- almost worse than a large one- in the upper right-hand corner of the mirror.

As it was the bathroom attached to the bedroom possessed by one Severus Snape during his stays at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the shelf under the mirror was lined with his things, as was the ground by the tub. On the shelf there was shaving cream, a razor, a toothbrush and an almost empty tube of toothpaste next to a simple black comb. Next to her by the tub were two unlabeled bottles, presumably the soap and shampoo he made himself. When Hermione lifted one to sniff, she confirmed her theory.  _ Mint, rosemary, sandalwood, amber, clean. Severus. _

As she rubbed the soap over her body the scent filled the air, the scent that had been present in her dreams since she had been a young woman. For her, the smell of Severus had always been comfort, safety, trust.

Gods, how had things gone so wrong? How had they hurt each other so deeply? Why did the smell of him make burning tears leak from her eyes?

The hallucinations had been awful, they had shown her every memory full of fear or anger or regret that she possessed, and had then shown her the eventualities she feared with such conviction that in the grip of the potion she hadn't been sure what was memory and what was a dream.

When she could retreat into the darkness of her mind she had mulled over the dreams, struggling to make sense of them, to figure out what was the truth. The devious nature of the potion was that it took things that had already happened and changed them just a tweak so that she couldn't be sure what version was the correct one.

Again and again she had seen Severus turning her away, again and again she had seen the Dark Lord killing Harry, killing Severus, killing her parents, again and again, she had seen her worst nightmares appear in front of her.

And again and again, she had seen herself pushing Severus away.

There, soaking in the bath, she thought about him.

Severus Snape, the mystery it had seemed that she had gotten so close to cracking. At first, he had seemed unattainable, and finally, she had him in her arms and then he was gone again, as aloof as ever. What was he? Who was he?

The simplest explanation was that Severus Snape was a man who had been hurt too many times.

His father beat him, his mother denied him affection, his school and his teachers had failed him, his peers had bullied him, his first friend and mentor had led him to the Dark Lord's side, where he had been hurt more times than she could imagine. Hurt and hurt and hurt, over and over again, hated by many and loved by none.

Until her.

And Hermione had realized early on that was what made her special to him, that was why there had been times when he had looked at her with such an intense longing in his eyes, a kind of disbelief that she was there and a desperation to keep her. So why had he given her up? Why had he pushed her away?

There were many explanations, explanations she had mulled over every time she had lain down for a moment of rest.

He could have been forced to do it, by the Dark Lord or by Dumbledore. She didn't know enough about the Dark Lord to say if he would be against it, but she could certainly see Dumbledore wanting them apart. But that one was put aside rather quickly- Dumbledore hadn't known about them. Cedric Diggory had, but not Dumbledore. There wouldn't have been time, and Severus would have told her if that was the case.

Then there was the possibility of him simply being tired of the relationship and the amount of work required or the stigma it would bring if it became known. That one was the one that incessantly bothered her, teasing and niggling and scratching at her heart. She was too much work, they were too much work, he didn't actually like or love her. He wasn't attracted to her. He had seen her nearly nude once and had scampered in the opposite direction as fast as humanly possible. This possibility brought all of her insecurities to the surface where they could burst like foul-smelling bubbles, clouding her mind and judgment.

But that possibility too had problems, mostly that he had kissed her again, that he had seemed plenty attracted to her in the past, that he had told her so many times that he would be there for her as long as she needed him there.

And there was one final possibility. That he had been driven to do it out of whatever emotion he felt for her, out of genuine fear, for a good reason or even a not-good reason that he had convinced himself to believe. Either he felt that she needed someone younger, that she would be in danger attached to him, or that it really was for the best. That he had pushed her away for her own good.

Hermione had got to know Severus Snape slowly, over the course of years. She had watched him daily, observed him and his habits, had slowly drawn out stories about his life and his childhood. If there was one thing she knew about him, it was that Severus Snape did not expect to be loved. To be valued. To be fought for.

And when she considered all of these things together, that was when she decided.

She would fight for him.

She had been special before because she had refused to be turned away by the things that always scared away other people. She didn't care that he was a Death Eater, she didn't care that he was what most people would consider ugly, she didn't even care that most of the time he was a miserable rude bastard who actively tried to upset other people. She didn't care, she loved him anyway- until he had pushed her away, for whatever reason he had.

When he had pushed her, she had pushed back. She had tried to stick to her guns, tried to convince him otherwise, and then she had given up. Hermione had refused to keep going after him, she had refused to be the pining girl in a hurtful relationship because she valued herself more than that. But she had also given up on him.

Goddamn it, he had hurt her but she loved the bastard anyway. The experience with the potion had told her that as clear as day- her mind and heart were still tied to that man, as much as she had tried to separate them. She had put up all the barriers she could stand in her mind until she was barely herself anymore, and it hadn't worked.

Sometimes she hated the way that her identity as Hermione Granger was so intertwined with Severus Snape. Like a vine on a trellis, she had wound around him and grown with him as her support as she rose higher and higher to seek the sun. There were days when she cursed her former dependence on him, cursed the fact that she felt so lost without his presence in her life.

But the past weeks had shown her that she could live without him. She didn't like it, but she could. Hermione Granger could stand on her own. But that didn't mean that she wanted to.

She wanted him.

_ Are you sure? _

_ I am. _

Hermione stared at the edges of the porcelain tub, thinking hard.

_ He hurt me. _

_ He did. I also hurt him. _

_ He hurt me first. _

What would happen if they got back together? Would she be able to forgive him again?

Would he forgive her? There was a world of unfairness and hurt and anger and just plain old fear in that question. Her first, instinctual response was to demand why she should beg his forgiveness- he was the one who had hurt her after all, he was the one who had rebuffed her attempt at reconciliation and he was the one who had broken the rules she had set up to keep them both safe from their feelings. But at the same time, Hermione recognized that Severus was hurting too. He was angry too.

From his point of view, he had finally gotten her to give up on him. The inevitable had occurred- sooner or later everyone in Severus Snape's life gave up on him- Hermione had just taken a bit longer than most. He had successfully pushed her away, and had proven that she was nothing special after all.

And that was where her fear came from- the gut-churning realization that she had failed him. He had failed her first, of course, but instead of refusing to let him go, instead of holding onto him with both hands, she had dropped him. It reminded her of a fairytale she only half-remembered, one in which a woman had to hold onto a cursed lover no matter what manner of horrible beast he turned into- she had failed in her challenge.

But still, still, she was hurt. Hermione had very quickly realized that there was little that hurt as much as when Severus had pulled her into a soft kiss just to push her away and jeer at her, tell her it was a lie. When she had sent her parents away, that had been painful. When she had killed for the first time and looked at herself and her soul, that had hurt terribly. But in both cases, Severus had been there afterwards to make her feel better. Now she had no one but herself, and Hermione had found that she was rather awful at cheering herself up.

Still concentrating hard, Hermione traced patterns in the soap foam on top of the rapidly cooling water. Her brow was knit in frustration, and she was chewing on her lower lip.

What was she to do?

She could continue to be hurt, she could continue to wait for him to come to his senses and beg for forgiveness at her feet. But in the depths of her heart, Hermione knew that would never happen, no matter how many times she would imagine the scene played out in her dreams. No, Severus would not do that, even if the war was over and both his masters dead. If she wanted him back, she would have to go to him.

Could she do that? Could she sacrifice her pride in that way? Well, it depended on what she valued more, her pride or her love for him. What did she want more, to be validated and alone or to put herself on the line and maybe get him back and rescue the two of them from the misery that had sunk into both of their lives? If he listened to her, there would be time for him to apologize.

"I'll just have to prove myself to him," she murmured. "I guess that's all I can do."  _ And hopes that he proves himself to me in return. _

* * *

Hermione was unsurprised when the door to her room – she had left Severus' chambers as soon as she had dressed – opened and Harry's slim shape entered. His brow was furrowed and his green eyes were upset. Inside, Hermione winced- as soon as she had woken up properly she had known that it would only be a matter of time before she would have to have this conversation.

She put her spoon down next to the bowl of soup Molly Weasley had given her, and smiled at her visitor. "Hey, Harry."

He crossed the room to her in quick, jerky motions, sitting on the end of her bed so he could face her. "Just that? A 'hey, Harry?'"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I thought we'd at least get pleasantries out of the way before we got into the serious stuff."

"I thought that you'd tell me before you go hunting down bits of Voldemort," Harry responded snappishly. "Guess we were both wrong." It was in between a mumble and a snarl, full of hurt and frustration.

A sigh left her lips. Hermione shifted in her seat to face Harry more fully, then reached out and took his chin, tilting it so that he was looking at her face and not the floor. "If you had been at the last Order meeting, then you would have known, Harry. Simple as that. There is a reason I had you start coming to these meetings, and it was so you would know what was going on. I have other things to do than fill you in on every little detail when there are meetings that will do that for me-"

"So you don't have time for me anymore?" Harry asked angrily. "Since when has that been the case, Hermione?"

"Don't you dare say that," said Hermione coldly. "My entire life since I was twelve has revolved around you. You want to be treated like an adult, act like one. You're almost sixteen, and you've been through more than most adults. Have I been wrong, going against Dumbledore to make sure you get to the meetings?'

Harry wrested his chin from her grasp to look away. "I didn't know about it," he muttered.

"You live in the same bloody house where the meetings take place!" cried Hermione.

Harry glared at her. "Ron and Ginny and I were in that sitting room on the third floor and we didn't hear everyone coming in. And even if I had, they would have thrown a fit."

"I don't care," Hermione said sharply. "And the only way you wouldn't have heard people coming in with Sirius' mum shouting like a banshee would be if someone warded the room. So I'll be taking care of that."

Harry frowned, leaning forward. "Someone doesn't want me at the meetings?"

Giving him a look that said,  _ isn't that obvious? _ Hermione nodded slowly. "Take a wild guess," she suggested.

"Dumbledore," Harry said slowly. "But he couldn't have warded it."

"As much as I want to believe that the Order of the Phoenix is capable of independent thought," murmured Hermione, "the truth is that if Dumbledore wants something Dumbledore gets it. And if Dumbledore even hints that he wants a room warded, by Merlin three people will jump up to do it."

Realization lit Harry's face. "Mrs. Weasley," he announced. "She did it."

"Of course," replied Hermione. "She didn't like the idea of you being at the meetings from the beginning, especially since Ron isn't being let in at the same time. Not that she wants Ron there- any of her children for that matter- but she considers you one of her own and she's in perfect agreement with Dumbledore that you shouldn't be there. So, you are going to have to make a concentrated effort to come from now on, okay? Then you'll know about things before they happen. Or at least, you won't be as in the dark."

Harry sighed, flopping back on Hermione's bed. "Fine. Still doesn't mean I'm not mad at you for going off like that and getting yourself hurt."

"I had a very capable and experienced team with me," Hermione said tartly. "Bill, Tonks, Viktor, Cedric-"

"Why couldn't I come?" Harry asked, surging back up to stand and pace Hermione's room. "Cedric? I'm the one connected to Voldemort, I should be helping-"

Hermione wanted to stand and confront him, but her bones still felt like jelly. "You have to be kept safe," she reminded him. "That's the whole point. If you got hurt on a mission like this, then we'd lose our only hope."

"It doesn't feel right," Harry said plaintively, turning to face her. He got down on his knees so that he would be eye level with her. "Hermione, we were supposed to do it all together. You, me, Ron. From the beginning. We were supposed to bring him down together, go on adventures together-"

She reached out, taking his head in her hands. "That's not the way the real world works, Harry," she told him sincerely. "Three teenagers can't take down a megalomaniac with an army behind him. We need the help of the Order. We need experienced witches and wizards. We have resources, we need to use them." She sighed, and relented. "It does feel wrong," she admitted. "You're a better leader than I am- I like being the planner, I don't like giving orders. It comes naturally to you."

Harry sighed. "I'd say that I wouldn't have let you get hurt, but I did just that last year."

"I knowingly put myself in harm's way," Hermione said gently, stroking his hair. "You know that, Harry. I knew what would happen- I knew it would hurt, and I knew I could die, and I knew why I was doing it. I did the exact same thing there, in that cave. Someone had to drink the potion, and I knew that someone had to be me. Don't blame yourself. Even if you had been there, I would have drunk it."

Harry stood, helping Hermione stand at the same time. He pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, and kissed the top of her bushy hair. "I was scared you would die."

In those words, in that hug, Hermione felt so much love. It overwhelmed her for a moment, but then she tried her hardest to hug Harry back just as hard. "I'm here." Inside she was cursing herself, guilt was rising up like vomit in her throat. What if she had died? He had just lost Sirius, he didn't need to lose her too.

"I don't want to feel like I'm losing you," Harry whispered, low enough that Hermione almost didn't catch it. "I don't want to be dragged along by Dumbledore to convince retired teachers to come back to teach while you hunt down Horcruxes without me, I want things to be like they used to be."

What was that time? When they had round faces, when their biggest worries were tests, when they were the best of friends who couldn't be separated? As much as it sickened her, the cynical part of Hermione's mind responded. Harry's face had never been round- his relatives had seen to that. It had only taken until Halloween of their first year for them to encounter the fear of death in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And petty squabbles had defined their friendship- especially her and Ron- from the very beginning.

Hermione squeezed him tighter. "I'm ready for things to change," she said, only a shade louder than Harry himself had been. "I'm ready to live without fear. I want to walk in the sun."

She felt Harry sigh against her, then release her. "Me too," he admitted, looking her in the eye. "But not at the cost of your life. Please, Hermione."

She gave him a wry grin. "I'll do my best, Harry."

"Promise me," he commanded. "I'm serious, Hermione. Promise me that you won't put yourself in unnecessary danger."

Hermione crossed her arms, considering for a moment before giving in. "Fine. I promise I won't put myself in unnecessary danger." A wave of dizziness washed over her, making her reach out an arm to steady herself before sitting down.

Harry ducked down and kissed the top of her head again. "Thanks, Hermione," he said, giving her a quick smile. "I'll stop bugging you."

"You'd better," Hermione said, giving him a mock glare. "Shoo. I'll see you more when I stop getting dizzy when I'm vertical for more than two minutes."

She watched as he left the room, and as soon as the door was shut she rested her head on her hands.  _ He tells me not to put my life in unnecessary danger, but I'm sure that if Dumbledore told him he was a Horcrux right now and the only way to win was his death, he would walk right into it with his head held high. Gods, I hope it doesn't come to that. _

* * *

Two days later, Hermione was on Hogwarts grounds, slowly making her way up to the Headmaster's office. The sun was out in full force, and yet, there was a chill that felt like it was making its home in her bones. Hermione shivered and wrapped her cardigan around herself. Although she was glad that Severus had told her that it was a weather spell and not Dementors, she hated the idea of the Dark Mark sucking magic from the Death Eaters to power such a thing.  _ Well, at least it hopefully leaves them a bit weaker, _ thought Hermione.

Once inside the halls of the castle, the chill intensified. Hermione picked up her pace as she walked through the familiar halls, despite the protests from her muscles. While immediately after waking up from the coma she had felt weak and supple, like a rag doll, now she felt like she had been through several of the most ferocious workouts Moody had once put her through. When she reached the rotating staircase, she let it move for her, relieved to take a breather.

With the basket of potions delivered by house-elf had also been a short, concise note in Severus' spiky handwriting detailing what each of the potions did and in what order she should take them. One was for muscle pain- which, he had explained, was a result of the body's physical reactions to the hallucinations.

When she reached the office door, Hermione was admitted immediately with an almost absentminded bid to enter. She found Dumbledore sitting at his desk, staring down at a pile of gold chain and a heavy locket.

She padded over to her usual chair and took a seat without taking her eyes from the locket. "That's it, then," she said in a low voice. "Is it a Horcrux?"

Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses. "You tell me."

Hermione reached out a hand to touch it, but only half a centimeter away she stopped. The energy coming from the locket was horrible and dark, something that made a sleepy, curious part of her that had recently been prodded by the Dark Arts books she had been reading prop open an eye. "Yes," she said simply, pulling her hand away. "It is."

"Well then," Dumbledore said, almost happily. "I must congratulate you on a job well done, Hermione. And on such a quick recovery."

"You have Severus to thank for that," Hermione replied, still staring at the locket. "He saved me yet again."

"Interesting." The word sparked a shivery sensation in Hermione that felt like a trickle of cold water running down her spine, a feeling like panic, as if she was changing and someone had barged in on her.

She tore her eyes away from the locket to look at the headmaster directly. "What is interesting?"

His ice-blue eyes did not hold gentle curiosity or even off-handed observation. Instead, they were calculating and sharp. "You and Severus. I see he has returned to calling you 'Miss Granger' and yet you still call him Severus."

_ Damn him for being so damn observant.  _ "It makes things easier for him, to be honest," Hermione said, letting some weariness leak into her voice. "Lord Voldemort is constantly rooting about in his head, trying to get information about to help Draco. If reverting to referring to me in the formal helps him keep his head, then I don't mind."

"Then wouldn't it help if you referred to him by 'Professor Snape' instead of 'Severus,' then?" asked Dumbledore. "If this is going to be an issue for him, then we need to ensure his safety."

Hermione shrugged, deliberately keeping her expression indifferent. "I don't feel it matters much," she said casually. "Any interaction we have when I'm talking to him directly is going to be in the context of the Order and will, therefore, be hidden when he goes before the Dark Lord." She nodded at the locket. "Back to business?"

"Of course, my dear girl," said Dumbledore, a note of apology in his voice. "Now. Since you were the one who successfully led the mission and nearly died to recover this piece of soul, I feel that it is only fitting if you are the one to destroy it."

Hermione leaned back, not as stunned as she felt she should be. "Where? And should we use the Sword of Gryffindor?" She leaned forward again. "Should I even be the one to do it? Why not have Harry do it- he'd destroyed a Horcrux once before- this would be helpful for him. It would remind him that things are happening and that he can be a part of this. If we could maybe even do it at an Order meeting, then we could really try to rally the Order members behind him with a feat of strength like this."

As much as it felt wrong to think of her friend in terms of his political capital, in some ways, as soon as Hermione stepped into Dumbledore's office, she stopped being Harry's friend, and even his protector in some ways. Dumbledore would have called it 'acting like Severus,' with the obvious and unspoken implication that it was acting like a Slytherin. This, of course, was despite the fact that she learned how to think like a politician not from Severus but from Dumbledore himself.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Have Harry destroy the Horcrux in front of the Order. Interesting. We'd have to make sure it would be safe."

"You and I would be standing right by," Hermione pointed out. "And Moody, and Remus, and Kingsley. Tonks too. And- although, no, I suppose we wouldn't want Severus here. We'd want him to be at the Dark Lord's side, watching for a reaction." Part of her heart clenched at that- the danger to her spy would be greater than a normal night.

A hand, marked with age, rose to stroke Dumbledore's long white beard as he thought. "I feel like I should have thought of having Harry destroy it," he said, almost ruefully. "You're getting too good at this, my dear girl."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "So? You want to have him do it?"

"Talk to him," Dumbledore ordered. "Make sure he wants to do it. If he doesn't, we can destroy it here. If he does, return tonight and we can begin to plan."

"Call an Order meeting for the day after tomorrow anyway," suggested Hermione. "If Harry says no, we can destroy it tomorrow and tell them about it on Friday. I'll talk to Harry right now. You'll take care of Severus?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I would, my dear girl, but I have to go meet with the Ministry. They want my advice on a wide variety of issues, both related and unrelated to the return of Lord Voldemort, and I'm afraid they will keep me all day. Severus needs time to prepare himself, so he must be alerted today. As you are the one with time on your side-" Dumbledore's eyes flickered to the gold chain about her neck- "Hermione, I must ask you to speak to Severus." Was there something in his face then? Was she noticing something, or was she refusing to notice something?

Although his words settled heavily in her belly, Hermione nodded. "Of course, Albus. What time do you want me to be back to plan?"

The Headmaster settled into his chair, stroking his beard in thought. "Eleven?"

Hermione gave him a sharp nod as she stood and shrugged on her light coat. "I'll be here."

* * *

It was with great trepidation that Hermione, alone in her room in Safe House Three, pressed her wand to her watch and observed thin letters etch themselves on the rim.

_ We need to meet. D's orders. Choose the place and time. _

When they faded, she released the breath she had been holding. "It's not like he isn't going to answer," she muttered to herself.

Still, in the sixteen and a half minutes until her watch heated gently, Hermione couldn't focus on a word she was reading. The dusty old book was open in her lap, the faded words (was it just red ink or were they written in blood?) held still for once, and even though it was roundaboutly talking about Horcruxes, nothing was sinking in.

_ SH3. House guests, so when I can get away. I'll alert you. _

Hermione frowned. House guests? Severus Snape had  _ house guests? _ What kind of house guests? Family? That was impossible, he didn't have any family. That left friends, which he was incidentally short on as well, and colleagues.

_ Death Eaters, _ she decided.  _ Well. He's being watched. Fuck. _

After another half hour of unsuccessful reading, Hermione shoved away the book in disgust and started going through the reports that had stacked up on her desk from almost all of the Order members. Two days wasn't much time, but it was enough that Hermione knew that she would be adding extra time to her days over the weekend to go through them.

Most were simple enough to go through. All employed Order members had to submit workplace reports, detailing any possible Voldemort or Death Eater related unusual happenings, such as odd promotions or strange deliveries. They reported conversations they overheard, coworkers who might be sympathetic to the Order or to the Dark Lord, and anything else they might have seen or observed that could be of use to the Order. Most of it was useless, but someone had to go through it and look for silvers of information that might be useful. Going through those reports required a detail-oriented mind capable of connecting seemingly unrelated incidents and making sense of them.

For example, a man working for a small Wizarding insurance company had reported that one of his colleagues had expressed anti-Mudblood sentiments. A young witch who stocked books at Flourish and Blotts had reported the same man buying a book on pureblood etiquette. Another witch had reported him buying black robes of the type most commonly used by Death Eaters- but at a discount robe store. Hermione had asked an accountant to dig into his financials as she looked into his family tree. Voila, Martin Fielding, a wizard from a middle class and uninteresting family with only one good thing to its name: a mostly pure but also mostly boring bloodline. There had been a Black who had married into the family a few centuries ago, but that was the only name of note. Martin's particular branch of the tree, however, contained a sister who had married a Muggleborn. Hermione had passed the information along to Severus, who, while present at Martin's induction ceremony, had gathered blackmail material. Now, Martin himself was an occasional source of information.

Other reports were of members specifically tasked with certain projects, such as Remus with the werewolves and Hagrid with the giants. Last year, there had been constant and horribly boring reports about guarding the prophecy.

She had made her way through a depressingly small portion of the stack of reports awaiting her attention when her watch burned again, making her stomach fizz in a combination of worry, excitement, and dread.

_ On my way. _

With deliberate calm, Hermione marked her place in the report, closed it, and set it aside. She was surprised that her hands didn't shake. She flicked her wand at the bed, smoothing the ruffled covers, then commanded the lamp to burn a little brighter in the still rather dim room.

The wards she had set up around the house alerted her the moment Severus stepped through the illusion and landed in the portrait room. She imagined his brief conversation with the walrus-moustached portrait, his long-limbed grace as he entered the sitting room. Despite herself, she jumped when she heard the first creak of the staircase as he began to ascend.

_ Calm yourself, Hermione, _ she thought, clenching her hands in her lap.  _ Don't make this odd, for him or for you. _ With a brutal mental shove, she pushed all her Severus emotions behind a glass barrier in her mind.

There were two sharp raps at the door.

"Come in," Hermione called. Her voice didn't shake, and behind the wall, her emotions clamored.

The handle of the door turned and opened, letting light into the room for a split second before the tall form of her Potions Master filled the doorway. Without saying a word to her, he turned and closed the door. The click was loud with the weight of unsaid words and might-have-beens and why-didn't-yous. Hermione swallowed hard.

"Hello," she said softly. "How are you, Severus?"

He regarded her warily. "Let's get down to business, shall we, Miss Granger? I don't have much time."

Hermione sighed, and sat down behind her desk. "Is it so awful of me to wonder how you're doing?"

The dim light was harsh to his face, highlighting the gauntness of his features, the severity of his mouth, the lines around his eyes. When he scowled he became fearsome, nearly grotesque. "Yes, Miss Granger. Unless it has something to do with this war." He sat across from her with easy grace.

"And if it doesn't? If I just care about you and want to make sure you're okay?" Hermione asked, well aware that the tight pain in her chest was showing itself in her eyes. She knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth that Severus would be affronted. She stopped him before he could open his mouth. "Forget it. I asked you to come because Dumbledore has decided that Harry is going to destroy the Horcrux at the next Order meeting- which he'll call for this Friday- and we need someone at the Dark Lord's side to see how it affects him."

Severus glared at her, but ignored her first question. "And the only person you have is me."

Hermione shrugged. "You… and Draco, right?"

The spy's back went ramrod straight. "You would risk my godson's life?"

"If it meant saving yours, yes," Hermione answered bluntly, meeting his eyes. "In a heartbeat. Especially since I know that it would be far less dangerous for Malfoy than for you. If you are there and he feels it, he will know that Dumbledore sent you there to observe his reaction. If Draco just happens to have a private audience with him at that moment, he wouldn't suspect a thing. If he even feels it, that is."

His eyes were burning. "He always suspects."

"Then we don't even tell Draco what to look for," Hermione countered, light and fluttery hope beating at her rib cage. "So if he is suspicious and he does look in Draco's mind, he sees nothing. And then you can look in Draco's mind later and see if you could detect anything he couldn't." She held up a hand when Severus was about to speak. "Don't answer no right away. Think about it for a moment, Severus."

Slowly the back relaxed, and Severus sunk into his chair. "I hate to say it, but I think you're correct." There was silence for a long moment. "It'll be even better if I can convince the Dark Lord to seek out Draco rather than Draco seeking out the Dark Lord, and perfect if I can get someone else to convince the Dark Lord to seek out Draco."

Hermione leaned back in her seat and whistled. "And to think I was proud of my cunning."

He didn't smile at her exactly, but some of the animosity in his face faded. "I am Head of Slytherin house. You are the lovechild of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, well known for being the two houses who have gathered the most renown for their lack of common sense, let alone cunning."

"I was behind Harry destroying the Horcrux in front of the Order," Hermione protested. "That'll be a good show. Excellent for public support."

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. "Have you figured out yet how you're going to explain it to them?" he asked loftily. "Are you just going to say that Harry is destroying a piece of the Dark Lord's soul and spill the beans just like that?"

She was silent for a moment. "Fuck you, Severus," she said finally.

"That didn't go so well if you remember," he said in a light tone- and instantly his face hardened again. "Forgive me."

The slight hint of joy that had risen in her chest deflated. She gave him a small smile. "There's nothing to forgive. You know, being formal with each other helps no one."

"As I've noticed you've decided to stand by your refusal to give me the respect demanded by a professor," Snape added in a tone of a long annoyed adult. "I'm trying to make it easier for us."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "And I've decided that I miss my closest friend and he probably misses me so even if we can't be lovers, we can still be friends."

Severus’ eyes narrowed as they met hers. "I don't think so, Hermione."

"Are you saying that you don't miss me, then?" Hermione asked gently. "The parts other than the kissing. The talking and the just being together and the reading and the brewing and the training and just knowing that there was always someone who had your back. And you aren't allowed to lie to me, Severus Snape. You owe me more than that."

He was silent. "I am doing what you wanted from me. That's how I'm paying what I owe." His voice was rough, not its usual mix of smooth and drawling. "What good will it do to admit that I miss you?"

"I let you down, Severus," Hermione said quietly, looking intently at him even as he refused to meet her gaze. "I tried telling you when I woke up-"

"You weren't in your right mind," Severus interrupted. "Don't believe what you saw, Hermione. It was lies made up by the potion to try to make you give in to despair."

Hermione sighed, clenching her fists so hard her fingernails drew blood from her palm. "I don't care if what I saw was false or not. It just made me realize that I deliberately pushed you away-"

"I pushed you away first!"

"And I should have held on tighter!" Hermione cried with just as much intensity. "Merlin and Nimue, Severus! That's what I was trying to tell you!"

He seemed to sink in on himself, resting his elbows on his knees. "You tried, and I pushed you away again, and that was that. Leave it be, Hermione, please."

"I refuse," Hermione said quietly. "I'll drop it for now, but I'm not letting it be forever. Okay?"

"If that's the best I can get out of you," Severus said wearily. "I need to get back. The Dark Lord was heavily displeased by my three-day absence and has stuck me with Wormtail as a house guest. He is purportedly there to serve me, but he is also there to report on all my comings and goings and essentially spy on the spy." An unpleasant smile crossed Severus' lips. "Unfortunately, I can't kill him outright but I can do my fucking best to make him as miserable as possible."

The thought of Wormtail in Spinner's End made Hermione's skin crawl. "That's awful," she said, shuddering. "For how long?"

"No time limit was specified but I'm sure it will continue until I'm back in Hogwarts," Severus said, disgust in his voice. "But now, at least, I can make it work in our favor. I'll use Wormtail to plant the idea in the Dark Lord's mind."

Curiosity leapt inside of her. "How?" asked Hermione.

Snape gave her an appraising look. "How would you do it, my aspiring Slytherin?"

_ How would I do it? _ She thought for a moment, unconsciously tracing the outline of her lips with her finger, a habit she had picked up from the man in front of her. "If I were you, it would be impossible to believe you just let something slip- you're a spy, you can't do that. You don't get drunk, so you can't let it slip that way. You need Wormtail to be absolutely sure you don't know that he knows the information. You need to plant it."

"How?" prompted Severus.

"Make it so that it doesn't even come from you," Hermione said slowly. "A letter from Draco, perhaps, saying that something's gone right or wrong with the plan, but he doesn't want the Dark Lord to know yet. Wormtail would see the letter and tell the Dark Lord, who would then call Draco in for an audience."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Satisfactory, I suppose. But it depends on Wormtail finding the letter, reading it, and then getting the information to the Dark Lord before Friday night, and the Dark Lord deciding to speak to Draco on Friday night." He stood, collecting his coat from the back of the chair.

"Then how are you going to do it?" Hermione asked, disappointed.

Thin lips stretched in something that was very far from a smile. "I'm going to do something similar, but with the Imperio curse involved. I'll send you a message through the watch when I'm sure of it."

Hermione stood as he shrugged on his coat, going to stand by the door. She reached out, taking the handle. He was waiting for her to open it when she turned, meeting his eyes. "Be safe, please," she whispered.

Finally something real reached his face. "I'll do my best," he murmured.

She opened the door, despite her reluctance to see him go. "Goodnight, Severus."

"Goodnight, Hermione." He gave her a quick nod, then disappeared down the hallway.

Hermione watched his shadow grow longer as he descended the staircase. "At least 'Hermione' is a start," she murmured with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 48. 
> 
> It's a start indeed! Comments, kudos, kofis, all most appreciated! I, as always love hearing what you all think! See you on Saturday!


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Another chapter! Some mixed reactions to the last one - hopefully this clears it up a bit!

**_Chapter 49_ **

The chatter of an Order meeting about to start was always a peculiar thing. There were people who spoke very seriously in clandestine whispers, peering about with great care as if there was an enemy informant right around the corner. These were the ones who always stopped talking when Severus approached, and eyed him with a mix of fear and dislike. Others spoke loudly and fearlessly, catching up on the latest gossip in the Ministry or each other’s lives.

Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, staring at a spot somewhere above Kingsley's head without really looking at it. The steady tapping of her fingers was the only visible sign of the nervous excitement that had been thrumming in her bones all day. The idea of destroying a Horcrux was so sweet, so much like the good news she needed to hear.

Severus had sent word that Draco would be meeting with the Dark Lord at half-past eight- and now, at twenty minutes past, all of the members of the Inner Circle had just finished trickling in, except for Severus. They didn't want the visual of Harry destroying a Horcrux anywhere inside of his head.

"Is it Kingsley?" a low female voice murmured in her ear.

Hermione started, turning to stare at Tonks, who had just slid into a place next to her. "Is what Kingsley?"

"Is  _ he _ Kingsley?" asked Tonks, sighing dramatically. "You know.  _ Him. _ "

There was a moment when Hermione just blinked owlishly at Tonks. "No," she said finally. "I thought I told you to stop guessing?"

Tonks wrinkled her nose. "You're no fun. What's up with the meeting tonight? There's much more…" her voice trailed off and she waved a hand at the front of the room, where Remus was talking quietly with Moody. "Stuff." She was right- a space had been cleared near the front, and the rather conspicuous beginnings of a protection circle were present on the floor.

Hermione stood up and stretched. "You'll just have to see. And don't call me not fun again, because it'll be happening any minute now. Patience. Some say it's a virtue."

"And those are the boring people," Tonks retorted, sticking her tongue out at Hermione's retreating back.

Hermione made her way through the people to the front of the room, then ducked out, ignoring the eyes that followed her. The Inner Circle knew what she did, and being around them sometimes was as uncomfortable as it was liberating. She liked not having to constantly pretend to be just a know-it-all student, but at the same time, eyes on her back had never been Hermione's favorite sensation.

Outside, in the hall, Dumbledore and Harry were talking quietly. Hermione leaned against the wall, waiting for them to finish. Harry was in his usual pair of baggy jeans and a tee-shirt that she remembered Bill and Fleur giving Harry for his last birthday. He looked drawn and serious, reaching up every so often to run a hand through his hair. When she narrowed her eyes, Hermione could see that his nails were bitten down to the quick and that his glasses were clean for once, a sign that Harry had wanted something to do with his hands badly enough that he had taken them from his face long enough to clean them. The only thing out of the ordinary was the large, ruby-encrusted sword in his hands.

As always, the Headmaster looked cool and collected, especially in contrast to his protégé's nervousness. The usual flamboyant robes were a light blue with silver and gold spangles moving lazily across the fabric. His hands were tucked into the long sleeves, and he was looking down at Harry with a look of fond confidence.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione heard. "I will bring the meeting to a start, and you can wait out here. And I believe that our dear Miss Granger desires to speak to you, so I will leave you in her care until it is time."

Dumbledore's eyes met Hermione's as he swept past her. There was curiosity on the old man's face, curiosity and anticipation. Then it was gone and he was entering the room and calling for order and quiet.

Hermione moved closer to Harry, resuming her position leaning against the wall. "Ready, hotshot?" she asked in a lightly teasing voice.

Harry made a face at her. "Maybe?"

"This isn't the first time you've done this," Hermione pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "Last time you were twelve. You've got this."

"Are you sure you don't want to do this, Hermione?" asked Harry suddenly, his bright eyes caught between embarrassed and pleading. "I don't think-"

Hermione shook her head. "Harry. Calm down and listen to me." She waited a moment, then continued. "This is just destroying a Dark Artefact. You have the Sword of Gryffindor, you have plenty of experienced witches and wizards around to help if you need it, but my point is, you won't. It's Slytherin's locket, so you just have to hiss for it to open, then strike at the heart."

"But what if he comes out again?" asked Harry. "What if Tom Riddle suddenly appears? What if he knows?"

"Don't give him enough time to emerge, if he does, hit him with the sword. The pointy end with the venom should do it," Hermione said tartly. "Stop stressing. If for some reason something goes wrong, Dumbledore and I will take care of it, okay?" She punched him in the shoulder. "Merlin, Harry. You were bugging me about not doing anything to fight him and I hand you a piece of soul to destroy on a silver platter and you chicken out now."

Harry laughed, finally. "I get it, I get it. Nerves, Hermione. They're something that happens to normal people."

"I saw you before the Triwizard Tournament. This is going to be nowhere near as hard as a dragon," Hermione told him. "Okay?"

Harry grinned. "Okay."

"Let's go," Hermione said cheerily. "Stick one to old Snake Eyes."

She opened the door to the kitchen, letting Harry walk in first. She noticed again how much he had grown, how broad his shoulders had become. He had been entering manhood one gangly limb at a time and now it seemed it had arrived.

"And now, as I'm sure you all have been wondering, it is time to explain what we have here," Dumbledore announced, smiling broadly at Harry. "Miss Granger's mission on Sunday was successful-" he was interrupted by polite clapping- "and she has brought back something of great import to the Dark Lord."

With theatrical timing, Dumbledore shook a dragon skin pouch over a kind of low column that had been set up in the center of the protective circle. The locket came slithering out in a pool of shiny gold and glittering emeralds.

"This locket used to be Salazar Slytherin's," he announced solemnly. A low murmur went through the Order. "Tom Riddle took a great magical artefact that had belonged to a founder of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and used it for his own Dark purposes. He has been using some of the energy of the locket to feed his own unnatural life. We will destroy it today, and take down one of the pillars of his power."

Clapping broke out again. Hermione watched the Inner Circle passively, examining their reactions. There were perhaps a few people in the crowd who might know about Horcruxes. She was surprised that Dumbledore had been as open with the information, although it was very much like him to twist the details to his purposes.

"My friends, my friends!" The widespread, open arms quieted the group once more. "We have none other than our own Harry Potter to destroy the locket."

Harry stepped forward. The nervousness seemed to have dissipated and been replaced with excitement. He handled the large sword with easy grace, as if it had always been in his hand. That was the goblin craft right there- their swords were the easiest to handle and the most beautiful to use.

It was quick work for Remus and Moody to raise the protective spells on half of the room as the Inner Circle gathered in the other half. Hermione, Remus, Dumbledore, and Moody stayed with Harry in the wide circle.

Once everyone was in position- Harry behind the low platform with enough room to swing the sword, Hermione slightly to his left, Dumbledore slightly to his right, Remus and Moody to the front and off to the side, wands out for all but Harry- Dumbledore nodded. "We begin!"

Harry took a moment to steady himself, then turned the locket to face him. When he opened his mouth, a strange hissing sound emerged from it, tangled and hoarse. There was a slight sound as the locket popped open, revealing its belly to the group.

A pale greenish-gray mist began to rise from the chambers, struggling to take form.

"Now, Harry," commanded Dumbledore. "Now!"

The rubies winked in the light as the blade rose up and then came down in one swift strike, piercing metal and sinking deep into it. There was a screaming sound from the mist, a howl of anger and rage. More poured from the locket, rapidly taking the form of a person.

"Again!" shouted Dumbledore and Hermione at the same time.

With a grunt, Harry wrenched the sword from the locket and swung again, right through the mist into the second chamber. The screaming intensified, then stopped.

Hermione was staring at Harry as hard as Dumbledore was as the Horcrux died. Was there something different about him, was there something off, was there a reaction? It was barely perceptible, but the lightning scar behind Harry's hair was perhaps redder than usual.

All of them were breathing hard as they looked at the broken metal. It had taken on a charred appearance, black around the marks from the sword. The two chambers were cracked and the glass was smokey and opaque.

There were a few moments of silence, then someone began to clap. Before long, the applause was thunderous. Harry looked around the room, grinning broadly.

Remus clapped him on the back. "You did it, Harry!" he shouted. "Giving that snaky bastard one right in the gut!"

The wards were quickly taken down, the remains of the Horcrux collected by Dumbledore, and a feast of epic proportions made by Molly Weasley presented as a celebration. Both the butterbeer and firewhiskey were flowing quite readily.

Hermione kept to the back of the celebration, watching Harry. Was there anything, anything at all different about him? Order members kept coming up to him, thanking him, handing him drinks. The boy looked happy and a bit tired, flushed from the effort and the attention.

It had done him good, Hermione decided. He had managed to strike a blow at Voldemort and could now revel in that success with the adoration of the people around him. Harry would remember this as a good moment in the hard times to come, or at least she hoped he would.

Before long, her watch flared with a gentle heat.

_ Come if you can get away. _

The spider web symbolizing Spinner's End told her where to go. Despite the fact that the level of intensity had told her it wasn't urgent, her heart rate picked up and a trickle of panic spread through her belly. Hermione was not sure if it was because there was the threat of the Dark Lord knowing what had happened (unlikely with the lack of urgency) or knowing that she would have to face Severus again.

The crowd was thick around Harry, but they let her through, watching with curious eyes. Ignoring them, Hermione laid a hand on his arm. "I have to leave now. Thank you, Harry." She smiled warmly at him, and he beamed back at her.

"You were the one who almost died finding it, Hermione," he said softly. "See you soon?"

"Of course," Hermione said, squeezing his arm and turning away. "I'll be back on my turnaround, as usual. I'll be back from 'visiting my parents' tomorrow."

Quickly she hurried out the door, escaping into the coolness of the night. After the heat of the small kitchen, the breeze felt good on her skin. The way the Apparition point was done at a quick walk, not quite a jog. Her thoughts were tumbling all over themselves, and she needed the time to sort them out.

How should she act around Severus? Like she had before, like she had the last time they had talked? She wasn't quite sure about anything anymore, at least anything regarding her Potions Master.

At the Apparition point, she quickly Disillusioned herself before turning and disappearing into the night. The slight disorientation dazed her when she landed in the humidity of Spinner's End. The smog hadn't obscured all the stars, but there was a damp sticky feeling in the air and the odd smell of the river that made the night not nearly as pleasant as London had been.

Soundlessly, Hermione made her way to Severus' house, slipping inside without knocking. Severus was in the sitting room, pacing in tight circles with a clenched jaw. As soon as she was in the room, his wand was out and pointing at her.

"Just me, Severus," she said softly. "I'm going to take the Disillusion off now, okay?" His wand didn't lower until she was visible. "What's going on, Severus?" she asked.

"Draco will be returning soon," he said tersely. "It might be a good time to test his allegiance and figure out how we are going to present him to the Order. He would have the most prejudice against you, so let's see if he is truly on our side. Or you can hide and watch."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise, folding her arms over her chest. "A little warning might be nice next time. Or some planning."

Severus threw her a sharp glance. "I only just considered the possibility," he muttered. "If you don't like it, leave."

"Sweet as ever," Hermione murmured. "No, I'll stay. I'm just trying to decide what would be better. We don't want him running out the door with our information." Hermione shrugged. "You know him best, Severus, he's your godson."

Severus stopped pacing for a moment, and considered her with his usual intense gaze. Hermione felt a flicker in her belly, but thankfully she had enough practice schooling her expression that she was sure he wouldn't notice. "Hide, and then reveal yourself."

Scanning the room, Hermione chose an out of the way armchair and sat down, disguising herself quickly. "Is the depression in the seat noticeable?" she called out.

Having Severus' intense eyes roam over her body, hidden as it was, still made the pit of her stomach tremble. "You're fine," he said shortly. "He'll be here in five minutes." He was silent, then turned to look at her again. "Did it go alright?"

"It did, yeah," Hermione responded. "Harry did great- that's the second one down, now."

Something like a snort came from Severus. "Glad to know that Potter is able to follow simple instructions. How is it that he has such continual success in evading and defeating the Dark Lord and yet is incapable of brewing a simple potion?"

"You're confusing Harry's potion ability with Neville's," Hermione retorted. "He's not half bad at potions."

The sneer on Snape's face intensified. "No, you're right. It's following instructions he's incapable of."

"Again, only when it comes to you," Hermione protested. "He is actually decent at Occlumency now, and-"

There was the tell-tale pop of Apparition, and then a knock at the door. Hermione went silent, watching as Severus shrugged on robes before going to answer the door. She couldn't help but notice the breadth of his shoulders and long back that tapered into narrow hips.

When he returned, Draco in tow, he no longer looked like Severus but Professor Snape, his robes billowing behind him. Draco just looked confused.

"Why did you want to see me, Uncle Severus?" The boy looked tired, drawn, not even quite like a boy anymore. He had changed since Hermione had seen him last, really seen him, walking and talking just not bleeding out on a couch. He was a shade taller, but the way he carried himself was different too. There was knowledge in the lines of his body, new knowledge of the world and of the horrors that could be present in it.

Severus sat and gestured for the boy to do the same. He was quiet for a long moment. "Have you thought about our conversation, Draco?"

Hermione saw the flash of fear in Draco's eyes. "I have."

"And?"

"He was upset tonight," Draco said quietly. "I have no idea why he called me in- I've barely been given this task. Still, he was upset with my lack of progress and punished me accordingly. This isn't the life I want to live."

Severus nodded. "Well then. I will need to look inside your mind before I say anything else."

Draco's head shot up. "That's unnecessary-"

"It's my life on the line, so it is very necessary," Severus said sharply. "It's me or one of those bloody Gryffindors and I promise they won't be as gentle as I will be."

She saw the clenched fist, the tightened jaw, all the signs of warring emotions. "Fine," he spat finally. "But the moment I sense you pressing at things you aren't meant to see, you're out."

Snape gave a thin not-smile. "Of course." It was unspoken but understood by the entire room, Draco included, that Draco would have as little chance succeeding in pushing his uncle out of his mind as he would in kissing a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Eye contact was made and the two turned statue still. Hermione settled in her chair as she waited. Time always passed differently inside the mind- memories took time to impart properly, but communication could be done in an instant. Rather than word by word it was just an impression of what one wanted to say, a flash of images and emotions that hopefully could be understood by the other.

Hermione took the time to examine the two Slytherins before her. The familiar features of her Potion Master tugged at her heart. He was no beauty, but still she could feel the want inside of her pulling and pulling and pulling. There were faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, far too early. He was stressed- she had seen his face devoid of lines when it was just the two of them together. She half expected to see grey hair on his head, but it was still the same thick, slightly greasy hair that she had always known him to have. His body was long and lean and sprawled elegantly in the chair, all long limbs and restrained vitality, a warrior.

On the other hand, Draco was the picture of a young prince with the world at his feet. The cloth of his robes was of obviously fine quality, his family ring was made of heavy silver and weighed down his right hand with all the presumption of wealth. He was pale, paler than Severus or Hermione, but the almost-white of his hair and the deep black of his robes gave life to his skin. Every line of his body was etched with his insolent belief in his own superiority. There was just an air about him in the way that he lounged in the uncomfortable armchair that would have told any observer that Draco was simply better than anyone else in the room- his blood was purer, he had more money, he was more powerful.

Neither appeared to belong in the dingy sitting room, with high bookcases with more dust than books and faded furniture. There was something so similar and yet so different about them- something about the way they held themselves, the utter arrogance of it all. It came to her after a moment- Hermione had never met two people with more projected confidence or more self-doubt and fear. It was all a façade- a well done, very convincing façade that was almost more real than the truth of their emotions, but a façade nonetheless.

Take Severus, for example- so unsure of his own worth, so sure he was meant to be unloved and unappreciated. Filled with such self-loathing. So certain that he would die before the war was through. Some of his power and elegance were genuine- the lithe way he moved was because of his fighting skill, the timbre of his voice was natural and nothing more. But most of it was affected- how he swooped into class with robes billowing behind him, with such a presence, the practised drawl that made his words biting or tempting.

She could see it in Draco too, only because she had known him for so long. Hermione could remember a first-year Draco, whose swagger had come from an absolute belief in his supremacy. There had been nothing of the actor in his certainty. Now, however… now she could see the doubt, but only because she had once seen him doubtless. The boy who had been raised from birth to believe the Malfoys were untouchable had been destroyed by seeing his father placed in Azkaban. This youth had his entire world rearranged and had been forced to make the choice to kneel to a madman to spare his own neck. That changed a person, Hermione supposed. A part of her couldn't hate him anymore, a part of her had never hated him.

Severus blinked and Draco shifted; just like that the connection was broken and the deathly stillness had dissipated.

"Very well," Severus said slowly. "In that case… it's time." He looked over to Hermione's chair and nodded.

Hermione took a breath and dropped her Glamours, ensuring she would appear older, then dropped the spells that kept her hidden. "Hello, Draco," she said quietly.

The blond Slytherin swallowed hard- she could see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He bobbed his head. "Granger," he said, just as quietly.

Hermione turned her gaze to the Potions Master. "What did you see, Severus?"

"There was no perceptible shift in the Dark Lord's behaviors," said Severus, his voice crisp and clear. "But his punishment of Draco was more severe than I would have anticipated, based on past experience."

Hermione examined Draco briefly, noting the hands that trembled ever so slightly. "Do you still have that potion for the Cruciatus, Severus? The one you gave him last time?"

She ignored the way Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise. Severus nodded once. "But my stores are limited."

"It's not worth it, Professor," Draco said, his voice clipped. "I expect that you'll have worse to deal with in the future."

His statement was met by an appraising look. "Very well. In that case, we have little left to discuss. In the meantime, keep Severus updated of your progress and any meetings with the Dark Lord, and closer to September we will have a meeting about how you shall proceed with your task."

Draco gave Severus a sharp glance. "She knows about my task?"

"I knew about it within the hour," Hermione answered, drawing his eyes back to her. "And I wanted to take care of it right away, but Severus thought you might be useful." She paused a second, then tilted her head, regarding him with careful eyes. "And I agreed."

She had no way of knowing how dangerous she looked in that moment, to a more than slightly frightened Draco, thought Severus. Her hair was a mass of riotous curls that framed her face like a lion's mane, a visible display of the wildness that he knew could course through her veins. Draco might attribute that to the fear he felt, unaware that the way she held herself, as if she could pounce at any moment, and the way she moved her limbs with confidence and easy, dangerous grace also registered in his subconscious. She was wearing Muggle clothes, fawn-coloured trousers that ended at mid-calf and a deep green shirt that was billowy enough to allow her to move freely. In all, she looked the antithesis of pureblood- everything that the Death Eaters fought against.

"So what does that mean?" Draco asked. His voice was high, nervous. "I thought we were waiting until school, until I was no longer going to see him so often-"

"Our plans changed," Severus said harshly. "I have decided that you need to be presented to Order members before school starts again. It's August- you only have two weeks before school starts again. You'll be presented at a calling of select members of the Order."

"Including me," Hermione said, nodding at Severus. "Which is why we're meeting now. I needed to know if I should be on your side or not, and who to include in this meeting. So, convince me. Give me your speech about why we should take your information, why we should trust you." She gave Draco a humorless smile. "Think of it as a trial run."

Draco frowned, turning to Severus. "Why her? She has the most reason to hate me-"

Severus cut him off with no mercy or patience. "Exactly. And for the most part, Hermione has the Order wrapped around her little finger. She knows how to manipulate them in ways I can only dream of doing because of my outcast status. So if you can convince her, you are in."

"And if you can't, you walk out of here with no memory of the last hour," Hermione said cheerily. "So try hard."

Helpless, Draco turned to his godfather, who met his pleading gaze with cold eyes. "I won't tell you again to do as she says, Draco."

There was quiet anger in the tightening of the boy's jaw as he turned back to look at Hermione. "I don't like it, but I need the Order," he spat out. "I have no choice."

"Why?"

In the quiet sitting room, Draco spun his tale. In the same low, angry voice, he explained how he had been given an impossible task, how his family would be killed if he failed, how he would follow his godfather and give information.

Hermione sat back after hearing it, thinking. Then, addressing Severus, she said, "Less emphasis on your role, more on how he's changed his ways, so it's not entirely under duress."

"It is entirely under duress," Severus said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But I agree."

Hermione nodded. "Okay. I think we'll need to include Moody- if we don't he'll throw a hell of a fit. Molly would be good- we want him to look as pitiful as possible so she'll take pity on him. If you imply your mother hasn't been doing much mothering lately, that might help. Remus- he acknowledged you were smart in school. I don't think Tonks would be a good idea- you're family, but family with history. Dumbledore, obviously, and maybe also Kingsley."

Severus nodded. "Start working on them now."

"Of course," Hermione said, toying with a curl, still thinking hard. "If we play it right, the final choice will come down to me as the one who is in the most danger. Then I accept, and we go from there. You'll probably have to do something to prove yourself- letting Dumbledore look in your mind at the very least."

"Is that all?" Draco asked sarcastically. "Anything else? Offer my firstborn son, perhaps, or donate the Malfoy fortune?"

Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "We don't have to try to save your life, you know."

"I could kill you now and go back to the Dark Lord victorious," spat Draco, rising half out of his chair.

Faster than he could have reacted, he was flat on his back and Hermione was twirling his wand in her left hand, her own wand drooping out her right. Draco's head was spinning, but he could still hear her sigh and say clearly, "Remind me why I'm doing this?"

"Because I asked you to, Hermione."

There was a pause, and another sigh from his godfather. "Don't give me that look. There are things more important-"

"And to you, he is one of them," was her quiet reply. "I know."

Rough hands peeled open one of Draco's eyes, checking the pupil, and then he was dragged up and thrown back into his seat by his godfather. "That was stupid," Snape said calmly.

Hermione came into his line of sight. "It was," she agreed. "I wouldn't have said you were stupid, merely prejudiced and brainwashed. Try harder, please. If I'm going to take risks on you, I need to make sure it's not a mistake."

"I didn't even see you draw your wand," Draco mumbled.

"I told you that you were outmatched," Severus drawled. "If I have to tell you to heed me one more time, I might as well put you under the Imperious and be done with it."

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched up. "I think that we're done here, then," she said, still twirling Draco's wand. She handed it back to him hilt first, with something like a friendly smile. "Draw your wand on me again and you'll regret it." He believed her.

Severus sighed, returning to his chair. Hermione took the one that Draco had formerly occupied. "You can go now," Severus said, dark eyes serious. "I'll contact you the next time we need to meet." His gaze returned to the woman before him. "Tea?"

"Please," Hermione replied. "Goodnight, Draco."

Severus rose and escorted his godson to the door. Hermione listened for the closing of the door, and then the sounds of Severus making tea in the kitchen. The sounds were familiar and domestic, grounding in their routine. The splashing of the water into the kettle, the whistle of the boiling water, the shifting of the leaves as he measured out his own blend of tea- the knowledge that once upon a different time she might have heard this story of sounds every morning and every afternoon and every evening coming from this same man made her heart hurt. She wanted domestic with Severus so badly- but truthfully, at this point, she just really wanted a kind word from him.

The steaming mug was thrust under her nose with no formalities, and she took it with a look of thanks instead of the spoken response. They sat in silence for a while, each thinking their own thoughts. The tea was good and the first cup finished in silence.

Hermione broke the quiet as Severus poured her another mug. "How much time do we have until Wormtail returns?"

"Dawn," Severus answered.

They were quiet again.

"Did you see anything in his mind, then?" asked Hermione. "Did the Dark Lord notice?"

Severus shook his head. "There was nothing. Unless he somehow knew, we are in the clear. Although I worry about his sanity as we take away pieces of his soul- his punishment of Draco really was far harsher than I would have predicted. But that could have been for a number of reasons, the least of which is that he is still royally pissed with Lucius. Draco will probably attribute his punishment to that."

"He looks so young," Hermione said after a long pause. "I forget that my classmates are barely sixteen, and sometimes I can't forget it either."

Severus sighed. "I know. I think the same of you, sometimes."

Hermione frowned at him. "In what way?"

"You got your Hogwarts booklist a week ago," Severus said, refusing to meet her eyes. "Tomorrow you're going to Diagon Alley to get your schoolbooks, and in weeks you're going to be sitting in my Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom as I lecture. And yet, I would trust you more than all of those fucking idiots in the Order to have my back because I know exactly how much you're capable of, and it's more than adults twice your age."

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling a pang of both hurt and happiness.  _ He can't forget I'm his student and yet he trusts me. _ "I've never had quite the same problem with you," she murmured. "For me, Professor Snape and Severus are almost two completely different people. I've paid attention to Severus once or twice in class but had to stop because I was getting too distracted."

She caught his wince. "I had to very firmly stop that line of thought," he admitted. "It helped that in class you were still as annoying as ever."

The teasing lilt in his voice meant that instead of getting offended, she simply wrinkled her nose at him. "Hush, you."

"That's no way to talk to your professor," Severus said loftily. "I'll have you scrubbing cauldrons for weeks."

Hermione laughed. "From what I've heard about Slughorn, I could probably wiggle out of it by mentioning my future potential and batting my eyelashes." She gave Severus a wide, genuine smile. "Congratulations, by the way. Finally, you're getting your chance to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Severus just nodded, his face solemn. "It's just because he needs Slughorn, Hermione. It has nothing to do with his trusting me more, or actually wanting me to teach Defense well."

Hermione shrugged. "So? You're getting the chance to teach, and at the best possible time, too. After Umbridge, the students will have to acknowledge that you're a better teacher than her. Look at my third year- half the reason that Remus was so popular was that he came after Lockhart." Her face softened. "You've wanted to do this for years, Severus, so don't let the circumstances affect how you're going to do it. You have the opportunity, so use it and don't fret about how it came about."

"Why is it that when I turn this over in my head I always come to the same conclusion, and two minutes of talking to you changes my opinion entirely?" asked Severus under his breath.

"Because I know how you think and I know that you're wrong sometimes," Hermione answered blithely. "And you listen to me. For the most part, anyway."

"I've missed you," Severus said abruptly, turning his head to pin her with the full force of his gaze. "I've missed you, Hermione."

There was so much emotion in his face and voice and words that Hermione felt bowled over, breathless under the pressure of his grey eyes and tight tone. "I've missed you too," she croaked finally. "Does-"

"No," he said shortly. "It- I thought you might want to hear it, that's all."

Hermione couldn't help but bow her head, hiding her face in her palms. Her shoulders hunched as she fought with the warring emotions within her: anger, sadness, guilt.

"I don't know if you're trying to be sweet or if you are deliberately trying to push me away," she said finally, her words slightly muffled by her hands. "If you really thought I'd want to hear it, or if you knew what an awful thing that is to say when you don't intend to do anything about it."

When she looked up at him, he was looking away. "It was a mistake," he said finally. "I would not deliberately try to anger you."

Hermione sighed. "This is why I wanted no contact before," she said ruefully. "Because it was easier to be mad at you for being an asshole and for lying to me than to realize that you don't know why you did it either. I meant what I said earlier, about pushing you away. I pushed you away when I shouldn't have because I was hurt. And every time you hurt me I want to push you away, because I'm not a masochist, Severus."

"I never said you were," he interrupted. "Hermione-"

"I wasn't through," she said, raising her voice. Hermione stood, approaching his chair. Severus hastily rose, to keep the advantage of height. She tilted her head up as he looked down his long nose at her.

"Then finish," he hissed. She could see that his own temper was rising, just as hers was. Spots of color were rising on his cheeks- either because he was angry at her tone or he was upset with himself for baring his emotions to her.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "As I was saying, I'm not a masochist, Severus. I don't like pain, I don't like it when it feels like my heart is being torn from my chest." She took a shaky breath. "So you hurt me and I was hurting so badly, Severus. I tried to save myself by pushing you away. And then I realized something. Seeing you hurting hurt me too- all I wanted was to stop hurting, and it didn't seem like I could do that. Pushing you away didn't help, it just made it hurt worse and if nothing was going to stop my pain, then I decided I wanted to stop yours. So tell me what you want me to do, Severus. Tell me. Leave you alone, stay by your side, wait for you, just tell me."

Carefully she reached up with a hesitant hand, and with the lightest of touches, she caressed the line of his jaw with the tips of her fingers. It was late- there was the prickle of the day's growth of stubble under the pads of her fingers. "I've not stopped loving you," Hermione whispered. "I didn't try very hard, because that would hurt worse, I think, than whatever we are now. I'm not going to give up on you, so tell me what you want from me."

Those dark, dark eyes closed, in pain or in thought she didn't know. His hand came up to take hers from his face. His hand was so familiar as it closed over hers, the warmth, the slender fingers, the scars and calluses. His eyes were still shut as he brought her hand to his face, pressing her palm to his cheek.

She felt the exhale of breath against her hand as he said something, but it was too quiet for her to hear. His body was so tight he was trembling, warring with himself.

"It's all for you," he said finally, opening his eyes and bringing her hand down, until he was holding it between them. "Things can't go backto the way they were, but it was all for you."

Hermione closed her own eyes, sensing that he told the truth. "What do you want from me?" she asked again.

"I want to keep you safe," Severus said finally, opening his eyes. "I want you to let me try to keep you safe as best I know how."

Hermione opened her eyes, squeezing the hand she still held. "And how do you know to keep me safe?"

"By doing what I did," he told her, squeezing back. "Limited contact. I'll explain if I ever get the chance, but for now at least- for now-"

She lifted his hands to her lips, kissing his scarred knuckles. "Okay."

His hands went to her face, holding it still. Her heart fluttered in her throat as he bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. They stayed like that for a moment, then he released her. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Severus," she said quietly, willing tears not to spill from her eyes. In moments, it seemed, she was out in the darkness of Spinner's End, in the heat of the thickness of the night.

She wandered for a while, lost in her thoughts. It was a long time before she finally wandered into a playground full of rusty equipment. The swings creaked ominously as she sat, but she needed the peace and quiet of a child's place at night. The sky was just beginning to lighten to a pale purple when Hermione rose and shivered in the morning dew, before Apparating away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 49.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! I am coming up on the number of chapters that I already have written - I might take our posting schedule from twice a week to once a week so that we don't run out too soon! We only have eleven pre-written chapters left... But the good news is that I am very motivated by Kofi- I've decided to write for 15 minutes for each kofi I get, and Chapter 62 has been written in record time, so that's good! 
> 
> Next chapter will be up on Wednesday, but it might be the last Wednesday chapter for a while!


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!
> 
> Last Wednesday chapter for a while - I want to make sure I can regularly update for as long as possible! Much thanks to my beta and many thanks for all of the lovely comments you all left!

**_Chapter 50_ **

"Harry is getting suspicious of Draco, following him down Knockturn Alley and everything," Hermione told Severus, weariness in her voice. "For god's sake, the boy is as dense as one of Hagrid's rock cakes when it comes to the important stuff and he suddenly wants to be Sherlock now, when it's bloody inconvenient. And then I was all ready to go with the new site I've been looking at for my mission, everything established, and Dumbledore suddenly shuts it down as soon as I give him confirmation that it's there!"

"You sound like you've had a rough day," Severus said wryly, half amused. "Should we have tea or break out the firewhiskey?"

Hermione considered for a moment, staring at the teacup on her desk. Severus was seated on the other side of it, comfortably draped over the chair. He fought the urge to laugh at the moue of thought on her face, the wrinkle in her brow as she considered the cup as if it held the answers to all of her problems.

"We could do both," Severus suggested after a moment. "If it's too much for you to choose."

She turned her frown to him. "You can keep your sarcasm to yourself, Severus," she said haughtily. "I'll take the firewhiskey, thank you."

With a sigh and a flourish, Severus produced a silver flask from the pocket of his robes. It was just one of the small things that were different now. Before he would have taken off his heavy robes the minute he crossed the threshold into her room. She knew Severus in a snowy white shirt and black trousers, and Professor Snape in billowing dark robes. Now he was both, and she didn't quite like it. But she liked his company, and on the rare nights he came in person for reports, she wished it would last as long as possible.

As he poured a dollop of alcohol into a conjured tumbler, Hermione frowned. "I thought you didn't drink when you weren't sure about when you would be called."

"Which is precisely why I am not imbibing now," he drawled, replacing the flask.

Hermione raised her tumbler to him in a quiet toast. "Then why do you have it on you?" she asked, taking a sip of the liquid. It burned going down.

Severus crossed his arms. "Because it can be useful for a number of reasons," he said, in a tone that told her that he was answering her relentless questions but wasn't overly pleased by it. "Getting other people drunk, making it look like I'm drinking, firewhiskey is dramatically flammable, and Lucius gave me the flask so I can let other people know that I'm a friend of his."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Hermione said with a shrug. "How do you want to proceed with Malfoy? I definitely don't think that we should let Harry know about Draco's new status with the Order."

That had been an interesting night. Hermione hadn't thought she would ever see Malfoy begging, but she had indeed been granted that experience. The blond ponce had done surprisingly well, better than she had expected, and now was set to report to Hermione once a week once school resumed. The group of Inner Circle members whom Severus and Hermione had chosen to decide the aristocrat's fate had not been thrilled, but when they had heard of the threat to Hermione's life, they had decided it was better to have a known threat than an unknown threat.

"You try to steer Potter in the wrong direction," said Severus simply. "It shouldn't be too hard. Plant a few suggestions, try to invoke common sense. Get Weasley on your side. Any of them, really. Shouldn't be too hard."

Hermione sighed, finishing off the liquor. "Well, those are my problems. What's been going on with you?"

Severus had opened his mouth to answer- probably that he needed to leave- when Fawkes materialized in Hermione's room with a shriek. Both Severus and Hermione had their wands out before they recognized the bird as Dumbledore's- they shared a quick look before something took Hermione to her knees.

It was the phoenix, pushing an image onto her mind.  _ Dumbledore, slumped over his desk, his hand slowly turning black from a large golden ring with a black stone on it.  _ It was accompanied by a feeling of drastic urgency, a desire to be followed.

"What is it? What is that blasted bird doing to you, Hermione-" Severus' voice was low and frantic. "Merlin, there's blood coming from her nose- stop it, whatever it is or I will turn you into a fucking pincushion, Fawkes!"

It stopped and she came to, her eyes focusing on Severus' face. "I'm fine," she croaked. "Dumbledore's in trouble. We need to get to the castle-"

Fawkes chirruped and offered his tail to them. Severus and Hermione looked at each other, then each grabbed a handful of tail feathers.

It was like Apparition, except they were being squeezed through a tunnel of fire and ash and wind. There was a moment of resistance when they met the Hogwarts wards, but then they were landing in the Headmaster's office in a flurry of feathers and ash.

The scene that met their eyes was nearly identical to what Hermione had seen- the only difference was that the Headmaster had torn the ring from his hand and had tried to use the Sword of Gryffindor to destroy what Hermione was now sure was a Horcrux. Now he was lying on the ground, unconscious.

"You tend to his hand," Hermione said quickly. "It is a curse of some kind, Dark Magic. I'll deal with the ring."

Severus frowned at her. "Be careful. This took down Albus Dumbledore of all people."

She reached out and squeezed his hand quickly. "I will be."

They went to their separate tasks in silence. Hermione saw that Dumbledore hadn't quite finished the job- the sword had cracked the stone, but a mist was seeping from the stone ever so slowly, an almost clear mist that was slowly gaining opacity.

"It's feeding off him," Hermione called out. "I'm going to kill it."

The sword felt heavy in her hands, but reassuringly so. Her arm muscles weren't as strong as she would have liked them to be, but the old Goblin magic let her lift the weapon above her head and swing it at the forming mist. Her aim was off, however- it went through the mist but failed to strike the ring. Instead, the sword lodged in the ground, slicing the stone like butter.

The mist howled, swirling over the ring, forming a face. Frantically, Hermione tried to pry the sword from the ground, get it above her head again.

"Hermione Granger," hissed the mist, to Hermione's horror. "I have seen you in his mind." It laughed as Hermione raised the sword again. "You aren't the sister he so desperately wants to bring back, just a liability he must account for-"

It shrieked again and Hermione brought down the weapon, her aim true this time. It broke the stone in the center cleanly in half, breaking apart the mist.

Hermione sank to her knees again, panting. She felt like all her strength had drained away; her arms felt like limp noodles and she was on her knees because her legs had decided they could no longer hold her up. Severus was glancing up at her worriedly, paler than she would have liked. He had turned the rug into a raised cot, and was kneeling over the prone body of the Headmaster.

"That was one of those bloody Horcruxes, wasn't it?" he asked tersely. "Jesus fucking Christ I don't like that it knew your name."

"It had been inside of his mind," Hermione said wearily. "The bloody idiot put the ring on." The remains of the ring were still smoldering. Carefully, she used the sword to nudge the pieces so she could see the design on the ring. "I have no idea why- the stone is crude. It doesn't look like any kind of family crest I've ever seen." A triangle enclosing a circle and a line- what on earth was it?

Severus shook his head once, trying to keep strands of hair from his face. "After. I need to concentrate to stop the curse from spreading. This is going to take a lot of power."

Hermione went to stand behind Severus, resting a hand on his shoulder for a moment before gathering his hair behind his head in a horsetail. She slipped the ponytail holder from her own wrist, winding it around his thick hair. "There," she said, a tender note of remembrance in her voice. "That'll stay. Do you need to borrow any of my strength?"

Severus looked up at her, meeting her eyes for a moment before shaking his head and turning to his task. "No, Hermione. Thank you."

As he set to work, Hermione went to the wall covered in portraits. "What happened?" she asked them. "Why would he put it on?"

Most of the portraits just shrugged mutely. A few murmured to each other, but only one answered her, in a high snarky voice. "We are bound to keep the Headmaster's secrets, Miss Granger."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, meeting the black and shiny eyes of the painted man before her. "Well, the Headmaster is currently lying on the ground, cursed within an inch of his life," she remarked mildly. "Any information you can give us to help save his life would be useful at the very least."

A portrait of a stern-looking woman walked into the frame of the deceased Headmaster who had spoken. "Really, Phineas, she has a point."

"Telling her why he did what he did will do nothing to help treat him," Phineas sniped. "So I see no reason to."

"Really," muttered the woman with a huff. "Dear, after he sent you off this morning, Albus rushed to the old Gaunt hut. He returned approximately forty-five minutes ago, with the ring. He spent at least ten minutes doing diagnostics on it. He disabled a number of nasty curses, then put it on. It seems he missed one, however. Fawkes immediately left to get you and Severus. He hadn't been wearing the ring more than five minutes before the two of you arrived."

Hermione nodded gravely at the woman's portrait. "Thank you."

"Of course," the woman said kindly. "If anyone can set him to rights, it'll be Severus. That boy's been in and out of this office for the last twenty years it seems, and he's stronger every time he comes in here."

The quiet confidence in Severus made Hermione smile. "I'm sure he will," she said in a hushed voice. "Thank you."

The night waned long as Hermione watched Severus work on the Headmaster, drawing the man back from the brink of death. She perched on one of the fluffy chairs that Dumbledore kept for guests, watching, just watching. Watching as Severus' voice cracked from speaking all the incantations, watching as his wand movements grew less and less precise. It must have been two in the morning before he stopped, breathing hard. It took him a moment to stand, and she could hear his joints creak and pop.

"He's stable," he mumbled. "He won't wake up for another hour, but he's stable."

Hermione felt a flood of tears threaten. For all that Dumbledore had done, for all that she knew he would do, she also knew that the Order would be lost without him. "Thank god."

Severus’ lips went thin. "Don't thank him yet," he said coldly. "The damage was done. He has less than a year to live."

Hermione stood, walking over to Severus. She rested a hand on his arm. "You did what you could, Severus," she said softly. "You gave him time. You've given us time to ready the Order."

The Potions Master shook his head irritably. "Why the fuck did he do it?" he asked her. "Why on earth would he put the ring on?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "The symbol on it- I've never seen anything like it."

Severus frowned. "What did it look like?"

There was a roll of parchment on Dumbledore's desk; Hermione took it and a quill. She made a quick sketch, with Severus standing over her shoulder. When she finished, she showed it to Severus. "It's crude, but it looks like it-"

"He's joking," Severus said flatly, his eyes not leaving the parchment in his hand. "He didn't actually do what I think he just did."

Hermione frowned, looking at Severus. "What do you mean? Do you know this symbol?"

"It's from a fucking fairy tale," Severus said incredulously, finally looking up at her. "Have you heard of the Deathly Hallows?"

She riffled through her memory, then shook her head. "No," she admitted. "What is it?"

Severus stalked to the Headmaster's bookshelves, searching until he found a slim tome. "It's the Tale of the Three Brothers," he said, handing the book to her. "I need to go fetch a few potions- read it, and when I get back we can discuss it."

Hermione nodded her assent, taking the book and going to her usual fluffy chair in front of the desk. She hardly noticed when Severus swept out of the room, leaving her to the dusty book.

"The Tales of Beetle the Bard," she murmured, stroking the cover. The names of the stories in the table of contents were odd to her, vaguely recognizable but not completely familiar. The Tale of the Three Brothers was midway through the book, and the symbol on the ring was etched below the title. Hermione began to read, a small frown forming between her brows.

When Severus returned, he held up a hand. "A moment," he said wearily. Bending down by Dumbledore, he poured potion after potion into the man's throat. Small improvements became visible- the color returned to the Headmaster's face, his breathing eased. His hand, however, stayed gnarled and black.

With a groan, Severus rose and took the seat next to Hermione. "Alright," he said wearily. "Go ahead, I know you have questions."

Hermione frowned at him. "This is a children's story," she said, disbelief in her voice. "Severus, are you trying to say that you think that Dumbledore put on the ring because he thinks the Resurrection Stone is real?"

"The Headmaster has theorized in the past that the Deathly Hallows are real," Severus said wearily. "I've argued with him about it, too. Legend says that if you possess all three Hallows, then you become the Master of Death." Severus brought his hands up, rubbing his temples. "He has personal reasons why he would want the Resurrection Stone in particular," he said after a moment, with a glance at the man on the cot. "He's never been perfect, Hermione, and he has his own ghosts."

Hermione was quiet, turning over the information in her mind. "I think this might have been what he was talking about," she murmured. "Something about this seems like- like something that could protect Harry. If Harry was the Master of Death, then perhaps he could survive destroying the Horcrux-"

"They aren't real, Hermione," Severus said, looking up at her with a terrible expression on his face. "Dumbledore thinks that his proof is Potter's damn Invisibility Cloak, and that isn't true. It's been in the Potter family for generations, sure, but every twenty years or so they would take it to Twillfit and Tattings to redo the unicorn hair weavings. Give it another couple years and it won't be such a true cloak of invisibility anymore. There are stories about a wand- Deathstick, the Elder Wand, whatever you want to call it, but it is just coincidence! And this bloody stone- is it safe now?"

Hermione nodded mutely, and Severus snatched it up, turning it over thrice in his hand. "If this bloody thing worked, Lily Potter would have appeared in front of me just now," he snarled. "It doesn't work, Hermione."

It was funny, mused Hermione, how one woman's name said by one man had the power to feel like a sucker punch to the gut. "Alright then," she said wearily. "But Dumbledore believed it was true and now his hand is cursed. What's the prognosis on that?"

"Bleak," snapped Severus. "I'll have to wait until he wakes up to know for sure."

Something about the way he said it made Hermione take a closer look at Severus. He was a hard man to read, but she  _ knew _ him, or at least she had known him. His right hand was clenched into a fist, and there was a tic jumping on the side of his face. His voice was tight, brusque, like the string of a longbow. Severus Snape was not calm and collected as he usually was, he was nervous and worried and more stressed than Hermione had seen him in a long time. But there was something else too, a fury behind his dark eyes that took her by surprise. He was angry, furious, and she had no idea why.

He took her appraisal of his face and form with a sour expression on his face. "That bad?" Hermione asked, a flutter of fear rising in her belly. "Should we convene the Order?"

"Absolutely not," said Severus. "And yes, it is that bad. We didn't get here in time."

Hermione nodded, swallowing hard. "How long until he wakes up?"

Severus glanced at the Headmaster. "I don't know."

They sat in silence for a while. Fawkes was quiet, looking at the Headmaster anxiously. The night outside the window was calm and clear, with no sign that the man who ruled the castle was perilously close to death. No, the stars shone on a clear lake, treetops moved with a silent wind, and the only sound in the room was the roaring of the fire and the puffing of the delicate silver instruments surrounding them.

To Hermione, it felt surreal. Albus Dumbledore was almost a mythical figure to her, as much as he was a man whose flaw she knew all too well. It was he who had chosen to send her life on this unexpected path, it was he who had taken away her absolute respect for authority, he was he who had made her into this weapon, into this woman who thought three steps ahead in twelve different directions, whose thoughts were consumed by war and death and a desperate need to keep Harry Potter alive. He scared her and comforted her in equal measure.

For it was true, that Dumbledore was a terrifying man. Ruthlessness was a quality that Hermione herself possessed and it was probably the aspect of her personality that disturbed her the most. She recognized that pragmatic ruthlessness in Dumbledore, could see it in every decision he made. It was that ruthlessness mixed with absolute conviction in both the cause and his own infallibility that made Hermione's blood run cold when tallying deaths and actions taken and not taken. If she was to be honest, she would admit that it scared her because she saw that in herself too. But she, at least, forced herself to check with others, to share her plans with Severus. Dumbledore did no such thing, because in his mind he was the only person qualified to know all the pieces of the puzzle. That was his tragic flaw- he bore all the weight of the war, all the weight of decisions made for the greater good, all the weight of the endless manipulation and cunning and above all, ruthlessness.

But he comforted her as much as he scared her, because it was all due to him that they had a chance of winning the war. There was a reason he thought he should be the only one with information- the truth of the matter was that Albus Dumbledore was one of the best wizards in the world, almost unequalled in power and knowledge. He was at least 120 years old to Hermione's knowledge- and he was powerful and he was smart. He had fought and won against Grindelwald, he had fought in the first war against Voldemort. He knew how wars like this were won and lost, he had knowledge and experience that could help them. There was always the impression of wisdom from the old man, wisdom and strength. Half of the conviction of the Order came from the Headmaster, and if anything happened to him faith would drop dramatically.

"Why on earth would he try to use the stone?" Hermione asked finally, pain in her voice.

Severus sighed. "A better man would tell you that it's not my story to tell, I find I don't really care about his bloody privacy after everything he's done." He turned serious eyes on Hermione. "Tell me. Do you know anything about Dumbledore's childhood?"

Hermione frowned. "Nothing. I researched him, of course, trying to find something, but only old Transfiguration Awards came up. Oh, and his father was arrested for something but there were no real concrete details." She felt slightly bad talking about Dumbledore's secrets right in front of his unconscious form, but she pushed it aside. She wanted to know.

"It was for attacking a Muggle," Severus answered, a small self-satisfied smile on his face. She scowled at him- she hadn't really applied herself to finding dirt on Dumbledore, but it seemed that Severus had. "See, Albus here had two siblings. His brother Aberforth runs the Hog's Head down in Hogsmeade, and they had a sister, a long time ago. She was a Squib and she died, quite possibly at Dumbledore's own hand."

Hermione couldn't help herself, she gasped. "No," she breathed. "What happened?"

"It gets worse," Severus said, making a small expression of distaste. "See, the other hand at which the sister's death could be laid was Dumbledore's former lover… Gellert Grindelwald."

Disbelief was stamped across Hermione's features. "You're fucking with me," she said after a moment. "You're telling me that either Dumbledore or Dumbledore's gay lover, the former terror of the Wizarding World, killed his sister, so you are obviously being a bastard and pulling my leg."

Severus crossed one long leg over the other. "That's why his nose is crooked," was all the Potions Master said. "Because his brother punched it at the funeral."

"Bloody hell," Hermione murmured. "That's a lot to take in."

"Long story short, he probably tried to use the ring to apologize to his sister," explained Severus. "Dumbledore has quite a lot of feelings surrounding his youthful infatuation with Grindelwald, namely guilt for having planned to conquer the Wizarding World with his lover and guilt for being the cause of his sister's death. It doesn't excuse it- the old goat should have known that the Hallows aren't real- but it explains it."

"How do you know so much about him?" asked Hermione, looking at Severus with frank admiration. "I did a good deal of digging but I never found anything."

Severus looked uncomfortable. "A number of ways," he said. "Talking to him, for one. Doing digging of my own. Rumor flies among purebloods- the Dumbledores were always pureblood- and most Death Eaters knew about his sister and a few knew about his friendship with Grindelwald. And I've been inside Dumbledore's mind more than once. He taught me only some of the formal Occlumency I know, but most of the Legilimency. He let me practice on him, once he was assured of my loyalty."

"And why are you telling me?" asked Hermione after a moment. "Not that I don't appreciate the information, but..."

Severus sneered at her. "I thought you'd like to have some leverage against him if you ever need it," he said, disdain dripping from his voice.

"You've never used it," Hermione remarked with unerring accuracy. "Have you?"

"I haven't," said Severus after a moment. "He knows I know, there's no point."

Hermione made a small noise of agreement. "He's probably the most complicated man I've ever met, after you of course."

Severus' shoulders twitched in surprise. "I'm the most complicated man you've ever met?" he asked incredulously.

Before responding, Hermione met his eyes squarely. "Yes," she said, letting all her honesty flow onto her face. "Dumbledore I can predict, to a point. The Dark Lord makes sense to me after learning about his childhood. But you… Severus Snape, I have never met a man so confusing."  _ You tell me I'm beautiful and you kiss me and put your hands on my body and hours later you tell me I'm nothing to you. And then you're surprised that I find you confusing. _

"And here I was thinking you could read me like an open book," Severus murmured, glancing over at the portraits. He lowered his voice. "It terrified me."

"Rest assured, an open book you will never be," Hermione answered wryly. "I'll admit I thought I had at least broken the wards on the library, only to find that I was in the wrong building altogether." She yawned, then, weariness hitting her.

Severus' eyes sharpened, taking the blood that had fallen from her nose to her shirt, the dark circles under her eyes, the paleness of her skin. "You need to go and rest," he said finally. "When was the last time you slept?"

Hermione checked her watch- it was close to dawn. "I went to bed at half-past two last night and woke up at five," she admitted. "I've been busy." Her eyes snapped to his face. "I don't want to hear one word about taking better care of myself, Severus, because I won't hesitate to call you a hypocrite."

He had no other recourse than to scowl at her. "Then,  _ if you feel like it _ , please go home and sleep. I'll watch the old goat until he wakes up."

"Or I could watch him and you could sleep because you are just as dead on your feet," Hermione pointed out. "I have the Time-Turner."

"I have my potion," Severus retorted. "I'm as fresh as a daffodil."

"And just about as yellow," Hermione countered, crossing her arms over her chest. "How's your liver liking that potion of yours, hmm?"

There was a mulish set to her chin, one that Severus knew he wouldn't be able to get around. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "As you pointed out, you have a Time-Turner," he said dryly. "What if, as a compromise, we both use it, get some sleep, and return?"

Hermione blinked at him- she had prepared for another rebuttal- then nodded. "That's perfectly reasonable."

"Only with you is the most reasonable course bending time and space so that you don't have to give in," he told her in a long-suffering tone.

She gave him a razor-thin smile. "You're just as stubborn as I am, Severus, or you would have given in first."

He laughed then, laughed despite the Headmaster on the ground and the future of the Order up in the air and despite the war raging around them. She laughed with him after a moment, delighted by the sound she hadn't heard in months.

"Come on, let's do this somewhere we won't run into anyone," Hermione suggested, a smile still on her face. "It's almost four- on the dot makes it easier for coordination."

Severus opened the door to the Headmaster's office for her, following her down the staircase, which reversed itself to accommodate them.

"I wonder what happens if someone's going down and someone else is going up at the same time?" Hermione asked, looking over her shoulder at Severus.

He shrugged. "It splits in two? It's bound to have happened at one point or another. Isn't the answer somewhere in  _ Hogwarts, A History? _ "

Hermione thought for a moment, then shook her head. "It isn't," she said, reproof in her tone. "I'll have to alert the editor."

She had half-hoped to startle another guffaw out of him, but she knew that wasn't the way that Severus' humor worked. He wryly replied, "By gods, put it to the top of your list, Granger. Such an error needs  _ immediate _ rectification."

In her swottiest tone, Hermione voiced her agreement. "I completely agree. I'll move the research that will contribute to the Dark Lord's demise to next week if I need to. Such a glaring flaw is not befitting of a book claiming to be a comprehensive history."

At least this time, she got a snort. Hermione let her smile spread to her face, glad that he was behind her. They came to the end of the staircase, and to her surprise Severus hastily skirted her so that he could open the door for her.

_ I am capable of opening it for myself,  _ Hermione remarked in her own head.  _ But if he wants to I suppose I won't stop him.  _ "Thanks," she said, looking at him as she passed.

"You're welcome," he answered, acknowledging it to her surprise.

"Well," said Hermione, looking around the corridor. "I guess we should find a broom closet or something."

It was only when she looked at Severus and saw his raised eyebrows that she realized what she had said. "Oh, hush," she ordered him, color flooding her cheeks. "You know what I mean." It occurred to Hermione that very shortly she would be very close to this man, very close indeed, sharing the Time Turner's chain… part of her really hoped it wouldn't be magicked to stretch.

Severus started walking down the corridor, so fast that Hermione almost had to trot to keep up. She checked her watch and noted the time that they turned the corridor. "Don't be in that hallway before 3:57 AM," she told him, a little out of breath.

He glanced down at her, then immediately slowed. "My apologies," he murmured.

"It's your bloody legs," Hermione said, grateful for the slow down. She was tired, and her back was aching dreadfully. "Here we are."

The broom cupboard was nothing special- dustpans, a mop, and a bag of cat food all shared the small space with Severus and Hermione. A quick spell gave them enough light to see each other's faces by, but that was all.

Being in such a small space with Severus made Hermione's mind spin like it did after two glasses of wine- it was because of his scent, maybe, or the fact that as she fumbled for the delicate hourglass she definitely caught him looking down her shirt.

"We'll need to get closer," she said, unaware that her voice dropped into a huskier register. Severus noted it, clenching his jaw. He took a step closer, then another. "I need to slip this chain over your neck too," she said, frowning. "How on earth are we going to get close enough to manage this?" It had worked fine with Harry, but they had been about the same height back then. She said as much to Severus, who sighed.

"Well, as you so put it so nicely earlier, my bloody legs are going to make this impossible," he snarled. "Why didn't you mention that the chain was so small?"

Hermione bit her lip, thinking. The one idea she came up with made her wince. Severus caught it, and glared. "Spit it out, Hermione," he said, gritting his teeth.

"Um- we've been about the same height a time or two," Hermione said hastily. "Like- um-"

She could see it on his face as he recalled when they had been at the same eye level. "I should pick you up, shouldn't I?" Severus asked, heaving a sigh.

"As if you were about to snog me against the door," she answered, making an attempt at their earlier shared humor. It fell flat, and she flushed.

Severus closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What did I do in a past life to deserve this?" he asked of no one in particular. "Or are my bad deeds in this life already catching up with me?"

There was a good handful of awkwardness as the two of them tried to recreate what had been so natural when the summer began. Once his hands had been so sure, once she had instinctively moved to make it easier for him, once they had been so synchronized.

"You might want to brace me against the door." Hermione said, her mind going back to earlier in the summer. "And- um, and I guess I'll wrap my legs around your waist."

Severus sighed again. "Well, come here, then." They positioned themselves so that Hermione's back was to the door; Severus put his hands on her waist, hesitated, then sighed once more for good measure. "Put your arms around my neck," he instructed. "Give yourself some leverage."

It felt so odd to wind her arms around his neck again, like old habit. She wanted to pull his head down to hers, kiss him, but she stopped herself. She couldn't stop herself from making a small squeak of surprise as his hands went to her bum, lifting her into the air.

Suddenly, she was there, looking directly into his eyes. "Hurry, Hermione," he said, and his breath touched her face.

As quickly as she could, Hermione looped the chain around Severus' neck, which brought their faces closer together. "How many hours?" she asked, cringing inside with the hope that her breath didn't smell.

"Eight," Severus said, a touch of impatience in his voice.

Eight turns she gave the hourglass, closing her eyes as time and space bent around them. Through the whole storm of time she was acutely aware of her nether regions pressed so intimately into him, of his hipbones digging into her thighs, of the warmth of him against her chest and the smell of his clothes.

At last, time came to a halt, stilling around them. Carefully, Hermione unlooped the chain from around his neck, returning the Time-Turner to its usual place between her breasts.

"There we go," she said quietly. "You can open your eyes, Severus." She was more accustomed than he to the subtle shift between being in the time stream and being outside it again.

His eyes opened slowly, and she smiled at him. His arms were tightly clasped around her, and he seemed at least a little reluctant to let go.

Sliding down his body back to the floor was almost as awkward as being hoisted on to him, but Severus and Hermione managed as they always had.

"Three minutes past four," she read from her watch. "Minus eight hours back into the future, now it's three minutes past eight in the evening. We can be back in Dumbledore's office after 3:58." Carefully, she reset the time on her watch.

Severus frowned at her. "How do you remember all of it?" he asked. "Every day, sometimes twice or three times a day?"

"It's been a part of my life for… for more years than I've cared to count now," Hermione said tiredly. "I'm supposed to be almost seventeen, but I started with the Time-Turner four years ago, times two- I must be twenty-one at least."

They were quiet, almost half asleep in the broom closet. "We should get some sleep," Hermione remarked sadly. "You're going to your quarters here, right?"

"No, actually," said Severus, in the process of setting back his watch. "I'm going to go to the Room of Requirement. Dumbledore might see if I go into my rooms and I don't want to get involved with past him if I can help it."

"Oh," Hermione said. "I was going to use the Room, instead of going all the way back to Safe House Three."

Severus looked down his long nose at her. "It's a magical room, Hermione," he said, his voice with the slowness of one talking to a child or an idiot. "It has space for two."

"First a broom closet, now the Room of Requirement," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Well, we've already done the Astronomy Tower, so why not?"

Instead of deigning to answer, Severus opened the door of the broom closet and gestured for her to exit it. He followed, shut the door, then started stalking off.

"Wait," Hermione called. "I have to ward it, and make sure no one uses it until we do tonight. It would be quite the shock, to open it and see us flickering in and out of time?"

Feeling quite useless, Severus watched her set up a quick series of protections. It was quite obvious that she had done it a hundred times, that she had thought through all of these precautions at the tender age of thirteen. He had helped her plan routes to her classes, but she had figured the rest of it out through trial and error. Or rather, just through careful forethought and planning that negated the possibility of an error.

"There we go," Hermione said, pronouncing the ward to her satisfaction. "And we should Disillusion ourselves too, no?'

"Of course," Severus said smoothly, tapping his head with his wand, and frowning as it felt like a cold egg cracked itself on the crown of his head.

Hermione swiftly disappeared from view. "After you," he heard her say, a smile in her voice.

They were glad of the charm on the way up to the Room of Requirement. Filch and Mrs. Norris passed by them, the cat following them with her eyes but doing nothing. On the fifth floor they saw a few ghosts, but other than them the castle was quiet.

"Shall you do the honors, or do you mind if I do?" asked Hermione when they reached the Room.

"Go ahead," he said quietly. There was just the sound of footsteps, and a simple door appeared.

The room that Hermione had wished for was actually two rooms, a bedroom and a bathroom. Two queen beds with fresh white sheets waited for them, along with a quietly crackling fire. In the other room were a simple toilet, shower, sink, and two toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste.

"Thank goodness," Hermione said, appearing suddenly. "Do you need to use the bathroom, or can I take a shower?'

Severus shook his head, cancelling his own spell. "No, go ahead."

She disappeared into the bathroom, and the shower started almost immediately. Severus took the chance to divest himself of his clothes, folding them neatly and laying them on a chair that conveniently appeared for him. Severus left his boxers but nothing else. She had seen his bare chest before; preserving modesty now did nothing but save their own stupid tender feelings.

He crawled into the bed farthest from the bathroom, turning on his side so that he wouldn't see her emerge from the shower. Hermione Granger would be the death of him.

He had done everything Dumbledore had ever asked from him, put himself in danger time and time again. He had only directly disobeyed a few times. When he had appeared in Dumbledore's office that fateful night Diggory had caught them to make his report after meeting with the Dark Lord, he had not expected what had awaited him.

The report finished, Severus had risen to leave, only to be waved back into his seat. Dumbledore had brought out his Pensieve, beckoned Severus closer to view the memories within. It was a memory of a meeting he had held in his office- Moody and Molly Weasley and Cedric Diggory and three or four other members of the Inner Circle.

Severus had watched impassively as they spoke to Dumbledore.

_ "She's getting dangerous." _

_ "You should have never put a Death Eater in charge of her training." _

_ "She's becoming just like him. Slytherin. Killing people, sneaking around." _

_ "Why on earth did she need to learn how to use knives? There's no purpose to it and it bothers me that she walks around with those things in my house." _

_ "I don't want her around Harry anymore." _

_ "What if he turns her to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's side?" _

_ "Have you seen the way she looks at people when she's mad at them?" _

_ "And it's all Snape's doing, Headmaster." _

_ "They are close, really close. They're together talking all the time at the Safe House and she likes him. I don't know how. He's really protective of her too." _

_ "If there is something inappropriate going on there, Headmaster-" _

_ "I don't know if there is, but if he's influencing her, grooming her-" _

_ "She's only a girl!" _

And then, the Headmaster's voice, grave and understanding.  _ "I hear and understand all of your fears. I will take care of the matter. _ "

There, in that office, Severus' blood had run cold. The Headmaster had shown him the lay of the land quite clearly, but still felt the need to lay it out in words that had assaulted his mind with their brutal calmness.

_ "… fear revolt from the Order if this continues…" _

_ "… my dear boy, it is necessary you cut off all unnecessary communication with the girl…" _

_ "… for your own good as well as hers…" _

_ "… clouded judgement could cause an accident…" _

_ "… I will not question your judgement and I know your heart rests with Lily, but it is unhealthy for you both…" _

_ "… would you have tried to drag Lily into your sordid world? Already she has killed- already she resents us for choosing us for this path and she will hate us and I will hate myself if her soul is tarnished beyond repair…" _

_ "… we would not want her good name tarnished after this war is done, so she can live her life to the fullest…" _

_ "… therefore I know you will not make me ask you to do what you need to do…" _

He had sneered some kind of reply at the Headmaster, and left for his quarters, to shower and change. And then he had taken a moment to meditate, to bury all his feelings for Hermione Granger as deep as he possibly could, pushing them deeper and deeper and deeper before leaving to go see her, to do what he knew needed to be done. There had been a threat in Dumbledore's words, a quiet hint of a threat, but it was a threat against her nonetheless.

How could he bear it, how could she bear it, when everything about her relationship with him just served to put her in further danger, from everyone around them. Every time he saw her and yearned for her was another opportunity for the Dark Lord to find her in his mind. His influence had turned the Order against her, put her in danger from Dumbledore. And worst of all, her love for him put her in danger and put others in danger because it distracted her. Severus Snape was bad news for Hermione Granger, and that was all there was to it. Once he had firmly convinced himself of it, he went to her and broke her heart and his own.

It had been the easiest thing to choose words and actions to push her away, to make her mad, to make her cry. He just went back to a conversation they had had right after Christmas, where she had told him every reason why she had thought she wasn't important to him. So easy, too easy, she had handed him every insecurity he needed to destroy their relationship. The easiest and the hardest because every fiber of his being had told him to stop, to gather her to him while he still had the chance for forgiveness. But he had pushed through it, had lied to her and hurt her so that she would be safe, without him.

The world of Severus Snape had gone dark without her in it, but he reassured himself that it was for her own good. It was so that she would be safe from Dumbledore, so that she would be safe from the Dark Lord, so that he could protect her in the best way he could- by staying away.

And still, still she had gotten herself hurt. Still, she had almost died. The Order liked her better now, that was true. But still, he could see how much she was hurting- Hermione thought that she could hide it from him but he knew her better than that. One part of him was so proud that she wasn't giving into despair as he had sometimes, that she was still eating and sleeping some and even laughing sometimes. But he could see how much she was hurting, yes, he could almost feel it when she looked at him.

There had been anger and hurt directed at him, and he had taken it all because he deserved it. But then- then the damned woman had to go and twist it all around and say that she had failed him. She hadn't held on tightly enough.

Everything had told him to fall to his knees before her, to beg for her forgiveness, but the threats held him back. If there was one duty he had now, it was to keep her safe. It was to end this godforsaken war so that she wouldn't be hunted as a Mudblood, it was to keep his distance so Dumbledore would see no reason why an unfortunate accident should befall Hermione. But the damn woman kept trying to break his resolve. He didn't know what he would do about her.

But now… now things were inexplicably different. Dumbledore was lying cursed on a floor and the future of the Order was in his hands.

Severus closed his eyes and began to plan, ignoring the sounds of Hermione emerging from the shower and setting an alarm before slipping into the bed and extinguishing the light. He had a lot of thinking to do and only eight hours in which to do it, and catch some sleep.

When his eyes finally did close, it was to the faraway sounds of Hermione's soft whuffling noises, something he had been quite sure he would never hear again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 50.
> 
> I feel that most of you will be quite pleased at what happened to Dumbledore... especially given what happened in the later half of his chapter! 
> 
> Comments, kudos, and kofi much appreciated! See you all on Saturday!


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> I think this is the moment you all have been waiting for... enjoy!

**_Chapter 51_ **

The alarm sounded at three in the morning, rousing both Severus and Hermione from deep sleep. Slowly candlelight suffused through the room, trying to gently bring them into wakefulness.

Severus sat up immediately, alert in an instant. He quickly took in and cataloged his surroundings. The fire had gone out after they had both fallen asleep, leaving the room slightly chilly. There was a lump in the other bed, which Severus knew was Hermione. As the alarm continued to sound, the lump squirmed and Hermione's head poked out from under the covers.

Her hair was a mess, absolutely everywhere, and her eyes were bleary. "Is it time already?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

"You can continue sleeping if you want," Severus told her. "I can tend to Dumbledore on my own."

Slowly she sat up, yawning and stretching at the same time. He hated himself for it but he couldn't help but notice the slice of skin as her shirt rode up, then the way her breasts pushed at the fabric, how her nipples had pebbled from the cold and were visible, there, straining against the thin material of her shirt. "No, I'm awake now," she said. "You get first dibs on the bathroom, if you want."

Severus got out of bed, knowing her eyes were on him and trying to ignore it- he had just done the same to her, after all. He had lost weight since she had seen him half nude last, from stress and simply forgetting to eat. It was easier during the school year, when there were regular meals he had to attend. He gathered his clothes and went into the bathroom, hearing her emerge from her bed as soon as the door clicked shut behind them.

They were both dressed and ready in fifteen minutes. The fire was roaring away again, and Hermione was frowning at a wall mirror as she tried to tackle her hair.

"I shouldn't have slept with it wet," she grumbled. "My judgement was impaired."

Severus snorted. Her hair really was a mess, standing out from her head in a bushy tangle. "Isn't there a spell you can use?"

"My hair doesn't like magic," Hermione answered ruefully. "That's why I always tie it back in potions- it looks like this if I don't, with all the potion steam in the air."

As she wrestled with her locks, Severus began to talk. "We need to plan how we are going to approach this, Hermione," he said carefully. "I have a very strong feeling that things are going to be very different now."

Hermione frowned at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "In what ways, exactly? I've thought about this too, don't think I haven't, but I want to hear what you're planning."

Severus traced his lips with a finger as he ironed out his thoughts once more before displaying them to Hermione. "Dumbledore is going to be weak," he said finally. "His mind might be addled by the curse, although I think I was quick enough to avoid that. For the time being, anyway. I did as much as I could, but even so, I've only halted the spread of the curse, I haven't banished it all together. He has some time left, but not much. Albus Dumbledore will have no more in twelve, eighteen months maximum. His mind will turn to mush sooner than that though, and his magic will be reduced to almost nothing within a year." He made real eye contact with her as she turned to face him. Her honeyed eyes were worried, surely, but there was a strange surety to them. "Dumbledore is the leader of the Order and the symbol of the fight against the Dark," he said finally. "And that is going to change."

"But we are at the crux of it," Hermione said, determination in the line of her chin. "We are the first to know, so we can be the first to act."

Of course, she wasn't wrong. "But how we act is the question," Severus said wearily. "There are too many directions we could go."

"The question is what do we want at this point," Hermione reminded him. Her fingers were flashing behind her, taming her hair into a tight braid. "You were the one who taught me that- don't make any decisions or plots without knowing exactly what you want your outcome to be. So what do we want from this situation?"

He hesitated before answering her. "Hermione, have you ever considered that what I want might be different from what you want? We aren't a- a  _ team. _ "

Immediately he knew he had made a mistake; there was real and true anger in her eyes. "I want one thing, and that is for this war to be over. It would be nice if you made it out alive, if I did, if Harry did, if my friends did. But there is little I wouldn't sacrifice to end it all. Are you telling me that your goal is different from mine?" As she spoke those words he could clearly see exactly how he and Dumbledore had stamped this worldview on to and into her, until she believed it with such conviction, until it had become a part of Hermione Granger.

"I am slightly less invested in saving the bleating sheep of the wizarding world at the expense of certain lives," drawled Severus. "Yes, I want the war over, but there is one person whose wellbeing I prioritize above the rest of the wizarding world and if it comes to it, yes, my priorities might differ from yours. I know Dumbledore and I have been feeding you lines about the Greater Good for most of your life, but it doesn't mean I necessarily believe it."

There was something not quite disgust in her eyes. "I thought you were half-convinced you weren't going to make it out alive."

How on earth hadn't she realized it? "That person isn't myself, Hermione," he hissed.

She blinked. "Oh," she said softly.

"We are getting off track, anyway," he said coldly. "In the short term, what is most important to me is solidifying my position at the Dark Lord's side, ensuring that Draco's position is shaky enough to keep him reliant on us and sure enough that he isn't in any real mortal danger, and keeping the Order calm enough to fight back in a reasonable manner. Long term, I want the Order to expand from an information collecting organization to a group dedicated to actually fighting Death Eaters, trying to reduce their numbers. I want to forestall the takeover of the Ministry and Hogwarts for as long as possible. Also, taking down the Dark Lord himself. Destroying Horcruxes, weakening his physical form at the moment, getting Potter in a position to kill him."

Hermione still looked a bit sidetracked, but she nodded. "Ok. In the short term, I need Harry safe. I want to make sure that Dumbledore gets us all the information we need before his brain gets too addled. I want to locate the other Horcruxes and destroy them. In the long term, I want both you and Draco to be able to provide reliable information, and be in good positions if there is a takeover of the Ministry or- god-forbid- Hogwarts. I want to find a way to kill the Horcrux in Harry's head without killing him, and I want the Dark Lord vanquished and the Death Eaters punished in some way."

Severus nodded, thinking hard. "So, we both want Dumbledore to do something he doesn't want to do, that is, hand over information. We want to cement my place in the Death Eater ranks. And we want to bring down the Dark Lord. How can we use our present situation to our advantage?"

Hermione chewed on her lip, her mind working equally as fast. "The hardest part of this is that we need information from Dumbledore and he likes being the one to hold all the cards. How do we make him show his desk?"

"We force him to," Severus said grimly. "Blackmail."

Hermione's lips pursed. "I don't like it," she said slowly. "Blackmail is dangerous. We should start by trying to impose upon him how precarious our situation is if he is taken out, the need to make sure that information is not lost. The hard part is that we can't trust him to give us all the information if we just ask for it."

"I can put something in his potion that will make him suggestible," Severus offered. "He'll need regular attention to make sure the curse doesn't spread. Potions, and me to check it. Once a month, at first, and then probably once a fortnight and then once or even twice a week after the first year. I'll have regular opportunity to dose him with a potion that makes him extraordinarily open to suggestions from one of us, coded with a sample- like Polyjuice."

Hermione sat on her bed, rubbing her temples. "It feels so wrong," she said mournfully. "We need the information, but we also need his wits clear. Can't he be reasoned with? He won't take it kindly if he is able to detect it and throw it off."

"We need to offer him something in exchange," Severus said slowly. "Not just medicine- we'd be holding his health hostage and he wouldn't take kindly to that. No, what we need to give him is control. Control over his fate, control over the fate of the Order, and control over the information he dispenses. We need to make him want to give over the information."

"Who do we want to take over the Order from Dumbledore?" asked Hermione. "Harry wouldn't be the best choice, nor would you or I. Remus would be level headed enough, but he has the problem of the full moon. Moody would be a bad choice…"

"Kingsley," Snape interjected. "He would be a good leader, and a good Minister for Magic in the future. But neither one of us is close to him."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I used to be, when I was younger. He taught me about Magical Law. I think I could be again. If I play it right, I could be again."

Severus was unprepared for the wave of jealousy that swept through him. "Play it right?" he asked scathingly. "How do you plan to  _ play it right?  _ Fawn over him-"

"Shut up," Hermione said, not a trace of warmth in her voice or her eyes. She rose from the bed, the dangerous grace of an assassin in her movements.

Severus couldn't help himself, he felt the words dropping from his mouth without his usual precision and control. "He taught you Magical Law- you have a  _ thing _ for teachers if I remember correctly-" He stopped on his own when he saw tears in her eyes.  _ Shite. _

"I knew you weren't a nice person, and I fell in love with you anyway," Hermione said furiously. "Because you were always- well, you weren't always nice to me either, but at least you weren't mean. You weren't downright nasty, Severus, like you're being now. I've tried to explain it away to myself, but this- I-" She turned away from him. "I thought that I meant something to you, that there was something about me that was special and that you  _ liked _ and that was why you weren't nasty to me." He could only see her shoulders and the tense line of her back. Inside, his heart was sinking fast, making him nauseous. "Turns out that was my boobs, right?" she said with a hollow laugh. "When you could get something from me, you were nice-"

"Stop," Severus croaked, feeling his throat close with guilt.

She whirled to face him, the tears gone. There was a slightly mocking expression on her haughty face, one that he hated seeing on  _ her  _ face. "So you're allowed to accuse me of being a slut who is hot for teacher but I'm not allowed to point out-"

"Please," he begged. There must have been something on his face that told her how wretched he was feeling.

The mocking expression was dropped, and just weariness took hold of her features, ageing her beyond her years. "Why is it always like this, Severus?" she asked him, her voice breaking. "Why? Oh, we spent the night in the same room and didn't fight right away, so you feel the need to distance yourself, to make me hate you by making some rude comment designed to hit me where it hurts? Just to force distance?"

How on earth did she read him so well? He worked the muscle in his jaw for a moment before replying. "Yes," he said shortly. "I'm an open book after all. Happy?"

"No," said Hermione sadly. Her arms were wrapped around herself, as if she was holding herself together. He noticed the dried blood from the nosebleed Fawkes had caused on her shirt almost as an afterthought. "One day you're going to say something I can't forgive, Severus. Do you really want that?" Her eyes pinned him in place, as if he were a butterfly she had skewered to a board with a sewing needle. "I am so tired of being the bigger person and forgiving you for trying to rip my heart out of my chest. One day it'll be too much and it'll cover all the good that we once had, Severus, and I won't try to stop it because I. Am. Not. A. Saint. I'm human, just like you, and I have my limits."

There was a deathly quiet in the air, a quiet filled with memories of Lily and of mistakes made and promises broken. He was unable to meet her eyes, large and brown and full of questions and emotion. No, he couldn't face her. He wasn't worthy of her. Every single damn time he tried to push her away she responded like this, being the goddamned bigger person, proving to him again and again that she was not on his level, that he did not deserve her, that she was a goddess among women and he was not fit to be kicked by her.

He hated himself more at that moment than he had in a long time.

"I'm-" he hesitated, but pushed through, bowing his head. "I'm sorry, Hermione." He sat down hard at the foot of the bed he had slept in, rubbing his temples. "I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to you and I'm sorry I'm not half the man you deserve."

He was surprised beyond belief when she moved closer to him, rested a hand on his cheek, tilted his head up so that he was looking at her.

"I forgive you," she told him, her eyes filled with tears. "This time, Severus. Why do you keep trying to hurt me?"

Her words from before flickered through his head.  _ I am not a masochist, Severus. _ "You deserve so much better than me," he said, tearing his eyes from her gaze and covering his face with his hands. "Let me push you away. Let me say the thing that makes you hate me so much you can go into the arms of Krum or Diggory without a whisper of regret."

Hermione knelt before him, her hands smoothing his hair, the back of his hands, his arms. "I deserve a man who loves me, who trusts me, who is loyal to me, and who is open with me," she said quietly. "You can do those things, Severus. You are a good man."

"I am not," he hissed, looking directly into her eyes. "I have killed Hermione, I have killed in cold blood. I have put you in danger by not being able to control myself and my urges, I have hurt you time and time again, I have lied to you and I have broken every promise I've ever made to you-" She laid a finger over his lips.

"I won't tell you I don't care about those things, because that would be a lie," Hermione said in all seriousness. "But I can look past those things, Severus. You are a man who puts his life in danger every day to end a war. I can look past what you have done to try to win this war, because I've killed too and you can do the same for me. I can forgive you for putting me in danger, because I put myself there. I can forgive you for hurting me, I can forgive you for your lies, I can forgive you for the broken promises. All I want to know is why. Why you would do all of those things, why you would give up what we had, why you would lie to me and hurt me and break your promises, because there is a reason, Severus. There is a reason you haven't given me, I know there is. And something tells me your reason is one you think is good, something tells me you are doing all these things to try to protect me from- from-" She shook her head, tears falling. " _ You are a good man, Severus, _ and I won't believe the worst of you if you don't make me."

Their eyes met, sunlight through whiskey and grey so deep it was almost black. She stared into his eyes, holding his face to hers. "Show me," she whispered, "If you can't say it out loud show me."

There was no need for spoken spells to drag her into his mind, no, the pathway that she fell into was familiar beyond words. He was pulling her into his mind, dragging her along with him into a painful spiral of memory.

She watched, horrified, as Dumbledore showed him the memory of Order members protesting her more ruthless tendencies, as he began to lecture Severus about his involvement with her. She felt nothing but rage toward the Headmaster as he mercilessly used every single one of Severus' insecurities to persuade him to distance himself from her. She watched as Severus snarled and walked away, as he fled to his chambers, as unacknowledged tears rolled down his face as he showered away the taint of the Dark Lord's meeting hall. Through his eyes, she saw her own face as he broke her faith in him, her trust in him. She hadn't realized that she had borne his mark on her neck that night and seeing it had made his chest ache. She hadn't realized that her face had such a glow to it, that her voice sounded so musical even when she was sad, and then she realized that it was how he saw her.

Hermione watched, horrified, as Severus grabbed jars of floating goop and animal parts out of the air in his office, hurling them against the stone wall in a raging fury. She listened to all his thoughts as he got shitfaced drunk. Her face, prettier than she had ever seen it, looped over and over again with the reminder that  _ she deserves better than me she deserves better than me she deserves better than me _ repeating incessantly until it was drowned by the drink. And as an undercurrent running through it all:  _ I need to keep her safe. _

Slowly Severus released her from his memories and his mind, until once again she was kneeling in the Room of Requirement, staring into his eyes.

"Do you understand, now?" he asked, his voice rough.

Hermione rocked back, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes as her head spun. "Dumbledore," she breathed. "He- he-" Her anger rose out of her in a flash of magic, that she was barely able to direct away from them, at the mirror on the wall. It shattered, sending shards of mirror into the air. She barely felt the cut on her cheek as she stood, staying angrily.

"If he doesn't die, I'll kill him myself," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "Is there one good thing in your life that the old bastard hasn't tried to take from you?"

Severus looked up at her. "Or you?" he asked quietly. "He controls everyone and everything, Hermione. As long as he was suspicious, as long as I didn't do exactly as he said, you were in danger. And he was right- I put you in danger from the Dark Lord, from distraction-"

"Shut up," Hermione said, whirling to face him. "Those things aren't true. You weren't protecting me by breaking my heart, you were- you were-"

"Driving you to suicide missions? I realized," Severus said dryly. "But his threats against you still stand-"

Hermione shook her head as he stood. "No, they don't," she said, a new light coming to her face. "No, they don't Severus. He's too weak now. He's too dependent on you. He can't threaten me, for fear that you'll leave him to die of the curse."

It felt like the world came to a screeching halt around them. There was just a crunching sound- it was Hermione's unrealized footsteps over the broken mirror, as she moved closer and closer to Severus.

Time started again, it felt like, when her lips were on his, and she was pressed tightly to him and he to her, their mouths open and their tongues twining in what was at once the most effortless thing in the world and the most difficult. Their bodies took a moment to remember what kissing the other was like; Severus' height and Hermione's small stature made it difficult to kiss comfortably, she had forgotten the way his large nose pressed against her cheek and how she had to angle her head, their teeth bumped as they tried to figure it all out again. Then, in a moment, it clicked and Severus hoisted her up and against the wall, her legs locked behind his back and their hands tangled in each other's hair as their lips moved together in harmony.

Gods, she had forgotten the sheer intensity of Severus when he kissed her. It wasn't half-arsed, it was all unrestrained, almost violent passion. The wall was hard and unyielding against her back, Severus himself was hard and unyielding against her front, and the only softness was his hair under her hands and the smooth slickness of his tongue in her mouth.

The shrill alarm Hermione had set broke them apart. Both Hermione and Severus were breathing hard, taking in each other's air as they stared into each other's eyes.

"What does this-"

"Where do we-"

Hermione unwrapped her legs from around his waist, and carefully he set her on the ground, disentangling his hands from her hair. "We aren't done talking about this, not by far," she said quietly. Her mouth felt heavy, but in a good way. In a satisfying way.

"I understand," Severus said, his gaze consuming her as he spoke. It was enough to make her struggle to draw breath.

To break away she checked the time. "We need to move," she said, tapping her head with her wand and shivering as the spell trickled over her.

Severus did the same, and silently the two left the Room of Requirement, turning the corner just as their counterparts entered the corridor from the other side.

* * *

When Albus Dumbledore awoke, he found himself facing two rather unsympathetic faces. Hermione Granger set aside the book she had been reading, peering at him.

"Welcome back, Albus," she said shortly. "Severus, he's awake."

Severus approached from the other side of the room, raising his eyebrows at Dumbledore. "You don't understand how lucky you are, old man," he said coldly. "If you phoenix didn't like you this much, you'd be dead and the Order would be in chaos."

Dumbledore coughed weakly. "I didn't mean to trigger the curse-"

"I would hope not," Hermione said tartly. "Nevertheless, there was a very dangerous curse on that ring."

Dumbledore lifted his hand with a grimace of pain. "Well. It's not fortunate, of course, but-"

"You have a year to live, maybe eighteen months," said Severus sharply. "That's a little more severe than 'not fortunate,' I would say."

The Headmaster looked to Hermione, almost as if he was expecting her to reprimand Severus for his harsh words. Rather, she gave him a steady gaze, aloof, almost too polite. Suspicious, he glanced back at Severus, then laid back on his pillows, closing his eyes. "I see that the two of you have reconciled."

Since his eyes were closed, he missed the glance that Severus and Hermione exchanged. Hermione was the one who spoke. "It was over your prone form, so you might as well be grateful," she said sourly. "We need to talk about the future of the Order, and sooner would be better than later."

Dumbledore sighed, opening his eyes. "Who have the two of you chosen as my replacement?" he asked bitterly. "I hope you know that they would never accept either of you-"

"Of course not," said Severus, his voice scathingly cold. "The Death Eater spy and a chit who isn't supposed to be seventeen yet? No. Kingsley, on the other hand, could actually lead the Order."

"Mad-eye," Dumbledore said quickly. "Mad-eye and Minerva-"

"You would be just as foolish to think we would take your puppets as our new leader," snapped Severus. "Kingsley is fair ground. He's just, he's smart, and he's not beholden to either one of us. He'll take down the Dark Lord for the sake of it, and he won't put up with any of your manipulative bullshit."

Hermione made a small noise, bringing the attention of both men to her. "Not that Kingsley will have any real power," she said, meeting first Dumbledore's eyes, then Severus'. "He'll act as the figurehead and run the meetings, but things really should be decided by a vote of the Inner Circle. Everyone who has something to say says their piece, and then we vote."

"And the dirty work?" asked Dumbledore, frowning at her. "You know we keep the Order from what really must be done-"

"And that is absolutely ridiculous," Hermione said firmly. "Either they need to know, or the dirty work stops. To be perfectly frank, it might give them a bit more respect for Severus and the things he does. Information needs to be freely shared, Albus, to all of our benefit."

The Headmaster's eyes betrayed his horror. "The first person to be captured would spill all of our secrets and the Dark Lord would know our plans."

"And what if they didn't?" Hermione asked. "We have some of the most powerful witches and wizards in Great Britain. We can devise a spell, a potion, anything to protect our secrets. But the information about the Horcruxes, about what we need to do to defeat the Dark Lord, needs to be shared with the Order. One of them might know something, for heaven's sake! Look what happens when you don't tell us what is going on! You went out on your own and now you're dying, Albus, you're dying when we arguably need you the most. When Harry needs you the most. He's going to die too, Albus, unless we figure out a way to get that Horcrux out of his head. You have a plan, I know you do, and you need to share it with us."

Albus stared at her for a long time, and then his eyes flicked to Severus. "It's not safe to say these things around-"

"Severus is probably the best Occlumens in the world," Hermione said flatly. "What if we just adapt a spell- the Fidelius charm, perhaps- to the secret of the Horcruxes?"

Severus tilted his head, tracing the outline of his lips with one hand. Hermione looked away quickly, feeling her ears heat. "She has a point, Albus," he said finally. "We could get Flitwick on board, try to adapt the spell. It is supposed to work for all secrets, not just locations, and if we get the Secret Keeper to tell the Order the Secret, then no one else can speak of it."

"And if the Secret Keeper dies?" asked Dumbledore. "Then everyone who knows also holds the secret."

"Charlie Weasley," Hermione suggested. "He's not embroiled in the war here. He has a reason to stay in Romania, far away from any chance of being captured by Death Eaters."

Severus snorted. "The man works with dragons for a living, Hermione. There's a decent chance he goes up in flames and dies that way. Dragons aren't a particularly safe hobby."

Hermione scowled at him. "Fine. Someone else then. Someone who lives far away, someone who won't be hunted." She thought for a moment. "I know someone- my pen pal, Charlotte Baudoin. She's French, she speaks good English, and she's one of Fleur's friends. She comes to visit Fleur, and there's nothing out of the ordinary. We share the secret with her, secret keep it, she attends an Order meeting and tells everyone, and then she goes home. Simple. Then we bind her with an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal the secret without our permission."

Dumbledore frowned. "You adapt the spell, and then we can talk about it," he said shortly.

"We'll have a lot to talk about, Albus," Hermione said, gentling her voice some. "Things are going to change."

To her surprise, instead of reacting angrily, Dumbledore simply patted Hermione's hand. "But do not hasten them too much, my dear girl. Too much change isn't good for an old man."

"You need to take your potions and rest," Severus said, reaching for the vials on the counter. "Who would you like us to inform of your accident?" He uncorked one of the brews he had made, and handed it to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore sighed and sniffed it, almost suspiciously. "Minerva, for now. How long will this put me to sleep for?"

Severus' expression was dour. "I expect until tomorrow morning. It is currently-" he checked his pocket watch, "half past nine in the morning."

Hermione rose, and stretched. "Until tomorrow morning, Albus," she said. "I have a meeting with my team in an hour and I need to prepare." She gave him a hard look. "Any more news you'd like to share with us?"

"No, I am not keeping anything pertinent to your quest from you, my dear girl," Dumbledore said blithely. He tipped the vial into his mouth, swallowing the potion without a word of complaint.

Severus and Hermione left his quarters to go back up to his office, where Hermione could use the Floo and Severus could contact the Deputy Headmistress. The Headmaster's quarters were not attached to the office, as many of the teacher's quarters were. Instead, Severus could command the stairs to take them down instead of up to the office. They were halfway up, Hermione in front of him, when she felt his heat on her back, and knew he was leaning closer to her.

"When can we talk?" he asked in a low voice. Gooseflesh peppered her arms at the wash of his breath over the shell of her ear.

Hermione, not turning to look at him, answered. "Come tonight, if you can get away," she replied, her voice just as low.

"Ten?" he suggested.

"Yes," she breathed.

He returned to his former position, and Hermione let out a shaky breath she hoped he hadn't heard. It was getting more and more difficult for her anger at him to fight the rush of need that pooled deep in her belly, and to her that wasn't the best of signs. They needed to talk, really talk, and jumping his bones the minute he entered her room wouldn't bode well for the future of their relationship.

* * *

Hermione walked into the sitting room of Safe House Three a tad late, a blush on her face. "I'm sorry," she said to her waiting team. "I fell asleep at my desk." Although she couldn't see them, an ink stain on her right cheek and a wrinkle from falling asleep on too many rough edges on the side of her face corroborated her story.

Laughter greeted her. "You work too hard, Hermione," Tonks told her. "How late were you up last night?"

Hermione flopped down in her chair, pushing her bushy hair out of her face. "Too much happened last night," she said, making a face. "You'll probably hear about it at the next Order meeting."

Bill and Cedric exchanged glances. "Is everyone… okay?" asked Cedric eventually. "There wasn't an attack, was there?"

Hermione shook her head. "Don't worry," she told him, lying through her teeth. "There was no attack, just a small mishap, and the Headmaster is handling it."

There was a visible relaxing in the room, a small but powerful sign of the trust they all had in the Headmaster. Hermione felt ill for a moment, like her stomach would rebel against her in front of all of them.

"Well, then," Bill said, giving Hermione a roguish smile. "I put together a list of possible curses we'll find at the Gaunt shack. If-" He frowned as Hermione held up a hand. "Wasn't that what you wanted me to do?"

Hermione nodded. "It was, yes, Bill. But we've had a change in plan. We'll no longer be looking at the Gaunt shack. We need to turn to our other leads."

"What other leads?" Bill asked angrily. "That was our best one, Hermione! We can't just leave it- you and I were both there, we could  _ feel  _ the Horcrux-"

"That Horcrux has been dealt with," Hermione said quietly. "Sit down, Bill. I know- before you jump down my throat, I know that we were the best ones for the job and it shouldn't have been taken from us without talking to us."

Bill sat back down in the armchair, still visibly angry. "That was bullshit."

"It was," Hermione agreed. There was a steely glint to her eye. "And he's paying for it, don't worry."

"Well then," said Tonks. "What other leads do we have?"

Hermione handed each of them a folder. "We've found and taken care of the diary, Slytherin's locket, and the Gaunt ring. So, currently it looks like we are searching for the lost diadem of Ravenclaw, the similarly lost cup of Hufflepuff, and Nagini the snake."

Viktor opened the folder, frowning. "But we are having leads on none of those items," he said. "The snake is always with You-Know-Who, and we are losing the trace on the cup after Ms. Smith."

Nodding, Hermione elaborated, more for her own benefit than for that of the group. "Hepzibah Smith died in 1946, two days after showing a young Tom Riddle that she possessed both Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. Her house elf Hokey was thought to have accidentally killed her, having mixed poison in her tea instead of sugar." Her tone let the room know that Hermione was fully aware of the implausibility of the situation. "Both the locket and the cup were not among her possessions, to the bewilderment of her family. Tom Riddle was never suspected of her murder. In fact, he left Borgin and Burkes shortly after, to disappear for several years."

"But where did he go?" asked Cedric. "If he made the Horcruxes, he had to have hidden them in places before he left, or wherever it was that he fled to. He hid the locket in the cave, but what about the cup?"

Tonks glared down at the sketch of the cup in the folder. "It's a damn shame he turned something that was so lovely, that was used for healing, into a Dark Object," she said with disgust. "Where did he go, Hermione?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't really know," she admitted. "Neither does Dumbledore. The only reports we've heard of were from the depths of a forest in Albania."

"Then we go there, and see what we can find," suggested Cedric.

Viktor nodded. "Dumbledore must have known- I have an aunt and uncle who live in Albania. When we were talking at the Yule Ball I mentioned them- remember, Hermione?"

Straining her memory, Hermione found that she did indeed remember a brief mention of family in Albania. "His mind must never lose any information," she muttered. "How soon can you arrange for us to visit them?"

"We need to be careful, Hermione," Tonks said quickly. "The Ministry hasn't been taken over yet, but we don't know who is watching what. If we all of a sudden pick up and go to Albania, it'll be suspicious if that information gets back to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We need a cover story, or not all of us can go."

Bill nodded. "That's smart, Tonks," he said, determination on his face. "I can find an interesting site in Albania to go to for work, get an official approval form and everything for my sabbatical," he said.

Hermione shook her head. "You're a Weasley- they'll be watching you. Do northern Greece instead, and meet us in Albania when it becomes relevant. What about you, Cedric?"

"I can't think of any reason I'd be able to go," admitted Cedric.

"Me either," Tonks said grimly. "Which was why I brought it up. It would be too suspicious."

Viktor rubbed his head, looking at the ground. "You won't like it, Hermione, but we have a reason to go."

"What would that be?" Hermione asked. "I'm trying to think of something, but I know I'm under watch and if I go then he would know for sure."

Viktor hesitated, then forged ahead. "Most of England was sure that we were a couple at one point, Hermione," he said awkwardly. "If we leak that we are a couple again, and you are coming to visit me in Bulgaria- from there we can make a few Apparitions to Albania."

"Oh," Hermione said faintly. It was brilliant, it really was. "That… that works."  _ Severus is going to hate this. _

Bill looked at Hermione and then at Viktor. "How do we leak it?"

"I have Rita Skeeter under my thumb," Hermione said, snapping back to herself. "Viktor, you'll have to leave the country quietly then, to be back in Bulgaria."

"Or not," said Cedric. "You arrange for someone to see you and Krum out somewhere, say that he was in England just to visit you, and then you go to Bulgaria to visit him. He has an excuse for being here, you have an excuse to leave if the paps won't leave you alone."

Krum nodded eagerly. "It would be good for my excuses for being here, Hermione," he said, his voice persuasive. "And I could finally get out of Headquarters."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, okay," she said, giving them a smile. "I am  _ so _ excited to have my love life splashed all over the tabloids again. My fake love life, I mean." She didn't want to give Krum any ideas, after all.

"Then it's decided?" asked Bill. "We track down the cup first?"

Hermione nodded. "And try to hear what we can about the diadem while we're at it," she added. "Agreed?"

A chorus of "Agreed!" answered her.

"Then Bill, Viktor, and I will go to Albania and see what we can find," Hermione said, with a definitive nod. "Cedric, Tonks, ask around about the diadem, cautiously, mind you. Although I'm sure your Ravenclaw friends would be more than happy to talk about esoteric artifacts with you." She checked the calendar that she had brought with her, and bit her lip. "We need to do this fast, before school starts," she said with a sigh. She had wanted more time to talk to Severus. "Tomorrow I'll get in contact with Rita Skeeter, so be ready to put on a show the day after tomorrow, Viktor. The article will be out by the day after that, and we can leave by the end of the week. We can spend a week in Albania, and then I'll need to get back for school. Bill, can you be in Albania by then?"

"I can start the paperwork once I leave here," he said, nodding "Getting a Portkey will be the hardest part, but Gringotts will help with that."

Hermione bit her lip. The Weasleys weren't rich, and Portkeys weren't cheap. "Come here tomorrow and I'll have some funds you can use for the trip," she told him. "The Order has a fair bit of money for things like this." There was no need to mention that a lot of the money came from the personal savings of Order members killed in the first war.

"Thanks," said Bill gratefully. "I'll get right on that."

It was the signal for the meeting to disperse. Bill and Viktor left right away, and Cedric retreated up the stairs to his room, leaving Tonks and Hermione in the sitting room.

"You look… happy," Tonks said suspiciously. "Like, you smiled and it didn't look like you were miserable behind the smile."

Hermione beamed at her. "My love life is looking up," she said happily. "He finally, finally talked to me and now I know why he broke everything off, and I think we can get past it."

Immediately she was enveloped in a hug. "I'm so happy for you," said Tonks, her voice muffled in Hermione's hair.

"It's not all sunshine and roses, and with him it probably will never be sunshine and roses," Hermione admitted, "and it was only a promise to actually talk about it, but I feel so light, Tonks."

The other witch leaned back, and caressed Hermione's cheek. "You deserve it, Hermione," she said, a kind seriousness on her face. "If anyone does, you do."

Hermione grinned back. "I hope it all works out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 51!
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading! I know, I know - I can never make the angst draw out too far. I look forward to all of your lovely comments, kudos, and kofis (speaking of - wow! You all are so amazingly generous. I'm floored - thank you!). 
> 
> Also - if there are any adlock fans on deck, check out my adlock fanfic!
> 
> See you all next Saturday!


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Thank you as always to my wonderful beta - this chapter had many typos... whoops.

**_Chapter 52_ **

Knowing that Severus would arrive at ten meant that as soon as the sun set, Hermione abandoned her reports and threw her nervous energy into preparation. There was no reason to believe that anything much would happen, but that did not stop Hermione from shaving, plucking her eyebrows, and putting a dab of perfume on her wrists and between her breasts. She washed her hair and made sure that her curls were not as bushy as they normally were, put on her nice lacy underwear and bra, and stood in front of her closet with a frown on her face.

Eventually, she settled on a black button-down shirt that she tucked into a skirt that fell to her knees. The shirt had a neckline a little deeper than she normally liked and when she rolled the sleeves up to her elbows it looked decent on her and since it was fitted to the waist it looked nice. At a quarter to ten, she sat back at her desk and tried to look at reports.

It didn't work. Her thoughts immediately went to Severus, immediately went to what she would say to him and what he would say to her and what role Dumbledore had to play in it. How on earth would this play out? Her stomach was in knots and she thought that she would faint or throw up or  _ something _ in front of him. And how would he take the news about Krum? Before she would have said that he would have taken it poorly, but now… she couldn't read him as easily now. It felt like months since they had properly talked, since she had been able to read his emotions in the wrinkle of a brow and the amount of tension in his shoulders. For her, with the Time Turner, it had been months.

A quiet knock at her door made her heart jump to her throat. When Hermione rose to answer, her knees gave out and she sank back into her chair. "Come in," she called out instead, willing her hands not to shake and her breath to steady.

As he had done dozens of times, Severus Snape slipped inside her bedroom, closing the door with a quiet click behind him. Their eyes met, and he hesitated for a moment, then removed his heavy outer robes, leaving him in a plain white button-down and black trousers.

_ So he's going to be open with me, then _ , thought Hermione. Wordlessly, she gestured to the seat in front of her. "Would you like some tea?"

Severus shook his head. "No, thank you."

Silence fell, but it wasn't awkward, just heavy. Hermione felt like his gaze was memorizing her, taking in each of her features and cataloging them somewhere behind his eyes, as if he'd have to draw her from memory later. She wasn't drawn to fill the void, to say something. He had to speak first.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said finally, his eyes intense on hers. "All I wanted was for you to be alive, safe, and happy, in that order. If I had to sacrifice your happiness- and my own- to keep you safe, then it wasn't even a question of what I would do, Hermione."

She closed her eyes then, willing herself to do what she had to do. "You lied to me. You listened to me beg. You took something that was bright and beautiful and  _ sacred _ in my life and you crushed it completely, Severus."

Even though she couldn't see him, she could feel the pain in his voice as he answered her. "I know. I know how badly I hurt you, Hermione."

"I won't ask you why because you told me already," Hermione said quietly. "But where do we go from here?"

There was quiet in the room, a quiet loud with questions and remorse and aching tender wanting. The quiet held fear and love and pain and hope and every emotion that Hermione had fought to keep behind her shields for so, so long. He was just as scared as she was, he was just as sad, just as hurt and just as hopeful. She could feel the yearning in her chest for him, the want that had been pushed down and down and down again rising to the surface once more.

Severus sighed, bracing his elbows on his knees. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes with an open vulnerability. "When I start speaking, don't stop me," he said tiredly. "Please."

Wordlessly, Hermione nodded.

Severus took a deep breath, straightened, and began to speak. "There are a thousand reasons we shouldn't be together," he said glumly. "I'm a Death Eater and you're an Order member, I'm a teacher and you're my student, I'm a man approaching forty and you're barely out of your teens." He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. "Hermione, I'm a mean, nasty, ugly man. I've killed before and I'll kill again, I practice Dark Magic, I am cruel and violent and above all, I'm not kind. You're-" he stopped for a moment, then stood, and walked over to her, kneeling in front of her chair and taking her hands in his. Hermione let him, her heart pounding in her ears. "You're beautiful, Hermione," he said, his voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper. "You're beautiful. You're young and your mind is the most amazing thing I've ever seen, you're sweet and kind and pure in a way I don't think I ever was. I turned you into a killer and still you haven't left behind your soul. You- you-" he was getting frustrated, unable to form the words. "Gods, Hermione, you're perfect. You're beautiful and deadly but you're kind and you love with abandon and you are so full of  _ life _ I don't even know what to do with you."

He bowed his head, holding her hands to his lips. "I love you so much," he croaked, and with that sentence whatever barrier he was hiding behind broke. "I love you and I feel like my world will fall apart if you're not in it. But I don't know how to love, Hermione, you've seen how badly I've cocked it up. All I want is for you to be happy, and I didn't think that I could make you happy or keep you safe."

She was crying, she was crying and her tears were falling on his head. "Don't cry," he begged her, cupping her face with both hands and brushing away her tears. "Don't let me make you cry."

"But-" she began to say, and his thumb went over her mouth.

"I don't deserve you, Hermione, and I'm sure as hell that you've done nothing so bad in your life that you deserve me," Severus told her, his words spilling out faster and faster. "I'm just the first man you've loved- there could be more, in the future, your time is not over yet-"

Hermione wanted to slap him, and he could see it in her face. He cringed, but he pressed forward.

"But if you want me, then I'm yours," he said finally, staring into her eyes. "There are a thousand reasons why it shouldn't work, why you shouldn't want me, but if you do, then I'll be yours, Hermione. I'll promise whatever you need me to promise, I'll do whatever you want me to do, but I'll be yours. I'll earn your trust again, I'll fight to get back what we had."

Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide and lashes wet from her crying. "Are you done?" she asked softly.

Severus nodded. He swiped his thumbs over her cheekbones again, wiping away her tears. Hermione's hands went to his face, her fingers tracing the sides of his face, before holding it gently.

"You said you loved me," Hermione whispered. "You just told me you  _ love _ me and Severus, I'm so scared because I feel like if I blink or move a centimeter you're going to take it back and leave."

He leaned in closer, urgency in his body. "Tell me how I prove it to you," he said, almost begging. "Whatever I need to do."

"I don't know," Hermione said helplessly. "I don't know."

It was only a moment before he lunged forward and slanted his mouth over hers, claiming her tongue with desperate urgency. She responded, her hands going from his face to his hair. Oh, her body had forgotten how to respond to his kisses, it had forgotten how to breathe and think and kiss Severus at the same time. It was a burning, an aching, a desire so deep she didn't, wouldn't, couldn't think straight with his mouth on hers. His kiss was demanding, harsh, and as bright as sunlight reflecting off of snow.

He was pushing her back in her chair, his mouth insistent upon hers. There was a point where tears had fallen from her eyes, wetting both their cheeks, but it seemed like that point was past when he pulled away slowly, drawing out the feeling of the kiss. She followed him subconsciously, leaning her body toward him. Slowly, with a few pops, he stood, looking down at her. With gentle pressure on her hand, he pulled her up to him, not letting go of her hand.

"I'm yours," he said again, meeting her eyes seriously. "When you decide what you want from me, let me know and if it is in my power, it will be done."

Hermione closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "I think we have a lot to talk about, but I think I'm a little too frazzled to do that now," she said, hating her own honesty. "A plan of mine is going into motion tomorrow that I'd like to talk about with you. I think I need to decompress and I think you do too." She hesitated before she spoke again. "But I don't want to be apart from you tonight," she said finally. "Would you be able to stay?"

Severus thought for a moment. "Yes. I might get some trouble from Wormtail, but I can always explain it away." He squeezed her hand gently, and she squeezed it back.

"Then I'm going to take a bath," she said. "Feel free to stay here or go and make excuses or pick up a change of clothes or whatever you need to do. I won't be too long. But we need to talk and- and I think I need to spend the night with you holding me, Severus, just so I can be sure it is as real as I want it to be."

She stepped closer to him, looping the arm that wasn't holding his hand around his neck and drawing his head down to her, kissing him sweetly for a long stretch of time.

"Hurry back to me," he said, eyes flashing dark.

Hermione grinned at him. "I will."

* * *

Hermione stood with her hand on the doorknob of her room, trying to urge herself to open the door. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, her skin warm and soft from the bath. The tight muscles in her back and neck had finally, fractionally, relaxed. Weariness was clawing at her eyes, but still, her heart was beating fast at the thought of seeing Severus in her rooms. Through her wards, she had felt him leave the house and return, felt him climb the stairs in the distance of her magical consciousness, had felt him disable the wards on her door and slip inside. He was there, a thin piece of wood away from her.

She squared her shoulders and pulled her robe closer around her, opening the door with a bit more force than she should have. Severus turned at the noise the door made as it hit the wall, and the small sound that came from Hermione.

He was wearing a pair of long dark sleep pants made out of some sort of soft looking material that looked thin enough for the summer yet cozy enough to keep one warm in the relative cool of Hermione's room. That wasn't what surprised her- Severus Snape was also wearing a worn cotton tee-shirt, grey in color with a scattering of small holes around the hem and one in the shoulder. It clung tightly enough to his body that she could see the wings of his shoulder blades before he turned around and the slightest hint of the definition of his chest when his front was toward her. He was wearing his hair pulled back from his face in a ponytail of sorts. When his hair wasn't hanging around his face, it made Severus' face look leaner, sharper, more like a bird of prey than an unpleasant man. Now, however, he didn't look like either- he looked like a rather ordinary man about to go to bed. Hermione felt a twinge in her chest that wanted to bring tears to her eyes.

"What?" he asked defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't usually sleep in a button-down and trousers, it's just what kept happening."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "I knew that," she murmured, closing the door and locking it before walking toward him. "The other night, remember? Although…" she let the pause drag out, slowly moving her eyes long his body. "I remember you wearing far less than this. Boxers, to be exact."

He scowled at her, taking in the smirk on her face when she finally reached his eyes. "I didn't feel like going back down to my quarters then."

"I wasn't complaining," Hermione said, reaching out and tracing the line of his collarbone over the thin grey shirt. "Nor am I complaining now. I just didn't realize you wore colors." She raised an eyebrow when his scowl deepened. "Even if it is the color right smack in between black and white."

Slowly she dragged her hand over his chest, down his abdomen. He was a tall man, so tall it felt ridiculous standing right next to him sometimes. He was too skinny- she could have counted his ribs if she had felt so inclined. Still the way he sucked in a breath made her duck her head and smile. She could do that to him.

"I thought we needed to talk," Severus said, his voice a tad rougher than it had been before. He captured her hand before it reached down too low, swiping his thumb over the back of her hand before raising it to his mouth and pressing his lips to it. "If you keep doing that, I fear our mouths might be otherwise occupied."

Hermione sighed, but didn't lose the pleased expression on her face. "You're right. But we can talk in bed, can't we?"

Severus ducked down and kissed the top of her head. "I can even hold you if you want."

Hermione cast a glance at her admittedly rather narrow bed. "I think you'll have to if we both want to fit in there," she said, not a trace of disappointment in her tone.

There was a slight increase of pressure on her stolen hand, and then Severus released it, going to her bed. Hermione gave him a fond smile, then crossed the room to her dresser, taking a pot of face cream and slowly rubbing it into her skin. There was a little flutter in her chest when she looked at her bed, and saw  _ Severus  _ under her cover, watching her propped up on one elbow.

"You look awfully domestic," Hermione murmured, more for her ears than for his.

Still, he looked surprised and maybe a bit discomfited. "And?"

"I like it," Hermione replied. "It gives me fodder for imagining life after this damned war." She set the face cream back on her dresser, then undid her robe and hung it on her chair. She was wearing a thin tank top, thin enough that he could see her nipples pebble from the cold when she took off her robe. The blue cotton shorts were the same ones that she had been wearing the night they had talked about explosions. The darkening of his eyes told her that he approved.

There was a comfortable quiet in the room as she padded over to the bed, pulled the covers over, and slid into his arms as easily as if it were breathing. But there were days when even breathing had felt overwhelming. Still, the feeling of falling into his arms again made a wave of comfort wash over her, smoothing the tightness that still lingered in her muscles. She exhaled the tension and inhaled him: smoke and herbs and wood and books and that scent that was just  _ Severus,  _ the smell of his skin and of his breath. His arms tightened around her, and she pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of his neck.

"So what did we need to talk about?" asked Severus. His voice was low and rumbled through her as he spoke.

"I'm putting a plan into motion tomorrow that you are absolutely going to hate," Hermione said, giving a rueful sigh. "Even I think that it has crap timing, but since Dumbledore fucked up my plans, it's taking one for the team."

She could feel him frowning even though she couldn't see his face. "Oh? Elaborate, please, before my mind devises a range of possibilities, each more terrible than the last."

Hermione stroked his chest. "Don't get mad," she warned. "I'm going to be pretending to revive my relationship with Viktor Krum in order to have a reason to go to Albania."

It didn't even take him a full breath to put all the pieces together. "I should have thought of the possibility of there being a Horcrux in Albania," he muttered. "And how realistic is this false revival going to be?'

Hermione winced. "Hopefully not too realistic," she said reassuringly. "I’ll get in contact with Rita Skeeter tomorrow, stage a paparazzi descent on a date with Viktor, and then flee to Bulgaria to be with him away from the cameras, until school starts. That gives me time and reason enough to get to the mainland, and we can just go visit his aunt and uncle in Albania. We have a fantastic cover story, so no one at the Ministry would even think of being suspicious enough to report it."

Severus sighed, and tucked his nose into her hair. "I don't like it," he said darkly. "Especially since I've only just found you in my arms again. I can't say what it would do for my raging jealousy if I were to see the Daily Prophet splashed with photos of you in another man's arms."

"Well, you'll just have to trust me," Hermione said, scooting up and pressing a kiss to his very recently shaved cheek.

Severus captured her mouth in a tender kiss, sensually sliding his mouth against hers. "It appears that I have, against my will I might add- decided to trust you with my heart. And since it appears that I'm doing everything in my power to try to get you to dash it to the ground and break it, it's probably best that it rest in your care."

"That was… both sweet and depressing," Hermione said, heart beating a little too fast from the kiss. "I'll do my best to keep your heart hale and whole." It said something about him, she decided, that he was a man who would try to goad her into smashing his heart to smithereens on the ground rather than ask her to hand his heart back.

Severus kissed her again. "I'm trying to be sweet," he told her, his mouth light brushing hers as he spoke. "It feels… odd but right. I want to be sweet to you. Give me time to figure it out."

"Don't get too sweet," she warned him, kissing him swiftly. "I think I'm about the only person on this earth that actually likes you when you're being a grumpy bastard."

Hermione lay back down, snuggling into his chest. "What else do we need to talk about?" she asked him. "I feel like there was much more than that."

"There's the 'where do we go from here' conversation," Severus said softly, trailing his fingers down her arm. "If you want to have that now."

"I don't see why we shouldn't," replied Hermione. "We didn't do things right the last time. We keep getting too caught up in each other to place boundaries and follow them, and every time we end up regretting it."

"That was a bit pessimistic," Severus said, and she could hear the frown in his voice.

Hermione pressed a kiss to his chest over the cotton of his tee-shirt. "I'm not exactly predisposed to sunshine and rainbows," she said ruefully. "Do you blame me? I feel like I keep placing my heart in your hands and I don't know why I do it. Why on earth do people fall in love? I hate the idea of my heart walking around outside my body and I'm powerless to stop you from getting hurt."

"Or to stop me from hurting you," Severus murmured, and his arms tightened around her. "If you don't want to do this again, Hermione, we don't have to. I can be whatever you want me to be."

Hermione pulled away slightly drawing herself up so that she could see his face. "Whatever I want you to be?" she demanded. "Really?'

"Really," Severus said solemnly. "I've promised."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So if I said that I wanted you to be a fuck buddy and nothing more, you would be okay with that?"

Severus scowled at her. "Don't test me. But I suppose, if I got to fuck you, it would be worth it,” he said waspishly.

There was a glimmer in his dark eyes that made Hermione shiver. "I won't test you then," she murmured.

"So you don't want me to fuck you," clarified Severus, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione bit her lip, looking down at him. "I didn't say that exactly," she said, blushing at the brazenness of her words.

A gentle, cool finger came up to caress her flaming cheek. "Your body betrays you, Hermione," he said quietly. "I don't think you're ready."

A surge of anger stemming from denied desire raced through her. Hermione took the hand that was cupping her face, and moved it down to her breast, where her nipples had pebbled instantly at his touch. "Are you sure about that?" she asked, her voice just as low. "I'm an adult, Severus. I feel like you keep forgetting that I am a  _ woman _ now with a woman's wants and a woman's needs and a woman's desires. I  _ want  _ you. I just want to be sure of you before I let you have all of me."

He sucked in a breath at her speech- or, perhaps, the breast in his hand. Gently, ever so gently, he squeezed her flesh, savoring the warm weight of it, then pressed his thumb and forefinger together around her nipple, drawing a low sound from her throat. It felt like there was a direct line from the point where his hand applied pressure through her shirt to the place between her thighs, leaving a heavy aching feeling there. She wanted to grab his other hand and press it to her center, she wanted to beg him to make the aching build and build and build until it overwhelmed her.

Severus seemed to understand that and more, looking deep into her eyes as he released her nipple and traced a circle around it with his fingertip, then smoothed his hand down her side into safer territory. "I understand."

Hermione took his hand, and brought it to her mouth. She pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. "Thank you. I think that as much as you forget that I'm a woman, not a girl, I sometimes forget that you're a man and you've had adult relationships when sex came much faster."

Severus snorted. "I haven't had that many adult relationships, Hermione," he said, drawing her to his side again. "I'm not inexperienced, but I'm not as attractive to women as you seem to think I am."

"I'm not going to ask about your history," Hermione told him. "I won't say I don't care, but I will say I don't want or need to know as long as I know I'm the only one for you at the moment."

Severus kissed the top of her head. "You are," he said simply.

"I'll be gone for almost the rest of the summer, until school starts up again," Hermione said regretfully. "So when we're trying to make this work again, we'll be at Hogwarts."

There was a long period of quiet, in which Hermione felt her lover tense at least three times in an attempt to say something. He struggled with it for a while longer, and she stayed quiet, giving him time.

"I don't know if I can explain to you how wrong it feels to be having these feelings about a student," he said finally. "I hate myself for a lot of things, Hermione, and this is easily one of them. There are lines that should not be crossed, and we cross that one with impunity."

Hermione kissed his chest again. "But think about why it is considered wrong, Severus," she argued. "Because there is fear of the teacher using their power over the student in unhealthy ways. If you were to change my grades or use them to force me to be in a relationship with you that would be wrong. You've never discussed my grades with me, except in teasing." There was no change in the stiff lines of his body, but she pressed ahead anyway. "The problem with teacher student relationships is that there is a power imbalance, Severus. And there has been a power imbalance in our relationship. If we take steps to fix that, then there isn't a problem."

"But there is, Hermione!" he exclaimed. "There is! It is breaking the trust that is placed in me, the trust that I will do nothing to harm my students or prey on them-"

"You didn't prey on me, Severus!" Hermione protested just as vehemently. "You didn't! There were a bunch of fucked up situations you had little control over that thrust us into the other's arms and you get me like no one else does, so I'm not going to give up this beautiful thing we have because you just happen to be my teacher in my fake life!"

"Your fake life?" asked Severus. His eyes were unreadable when they met hers.

Hermione sighed, and looked away from him. "Life at Hogwarts- it's like I'm going through the motions, but I'm not really there, you know? I'm not a seventeen year old girl going in for her sixth year of schooling. I've done all the spells and brewed all the potions. I am my fake person in front of Ron and Lavender and Parvarti and all my other classmates. They don't know the Hermione that reads reports for the Order, who has a thing for knives, the Hermione who loves you. That is me- the adult version of me, at least, the me I feel the most comfortable with. It's not exactly the me that the Order sees, but it's close to that one. Severus, I feel like I'm always hiding one aspect of myself or another except when I'm with you, so don't you dare take that away from me."

He pressed up and kissed her sweetly, using his lips with the faintest of touches. "I won't take it away," he promised. "I suppose it would be much different if you were your average student of our fair and esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But since you are you, Hermione Granger, I can make an exception."

She bent down and kissed him again. "Thank you."

"So what is left to figure out?" asked Severus. "What more do you want to talk about before we can sleep?"

Hermione shrugged. "We need to figure out how to deal with a power imbalance in our relationship," she said. "And I think we've made a step by admitting that it exists. As long as we're aware of it, we can make sure that we don't give in to it."

Severus let his mouth spread into a lazy smile. "So we're done with talking?" he asked. There was a sudden dangerous purr in his voice that let her know exactly what was now on his mind.

Hermione swallowed thickly. "I suppose we are," she admitted.

In one swift motion he flipped them, sliding forward until his hips fit perfectly into the cradle between her legs. Hermione let out a squeak that was soon muffled by his mouth over hers, kissing her hungrily. Happily she wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as enthusiastically.

_ A nice end to an evening, _ she thought, before her mind turned to other things.  _ A rather lovely end, I'd say. _

* * *

Apparition was a tricky bit of magic under any circumstances, but in heels and as a Side Along, it was even harder. Viktor had refused to tell Hermione which restaurant he was taking her to, insisting that it be a surprise. She had to grab the Quidditch player's muscled forearm again when she saw the name of the restaurant. Now the fancy get-up that Viktor had insisted on made much more sense.

"Viktor!" she gasped. "I thought we would be keeping it… low key." One hand fumbled in her purse, releasing a small beetle who had come along with them.

He grinned down at her. "I am getting only one chance to wine and dine you, Hermione," he said. "I have friends who were getting us reservations."

Hermione tugged at her shawl. "Fine," she said, giving him a reluctant smile. "Let's eat. And you are most definitely paying if this is where we're going."

Viktor laughed heartily, putting an arm around her shoulders. "But I am not an internationally renowned Quidditch player any more, Hermione. I left it all for you." A slight buzzing sound made Hermione want to slap at the air in front of her. She clenched her fists, but refrained. It would be rude to slap her pet journalist out of the air.

Hermione made herself give Viktor her best imitation of a love sick smile. "But you'll be going back to it soon enough, my dear."

They walked into the restaurant, separating only long enough for Viktor to open the door for Hermione. The interior of the restaurant was all soft gold lighting and dark stained wood. Soft jazz music was coming from a piano played by a pearly ghost in a smart suit that dated him to the 1920's. The maître d' smiled widely at them when they came in.

"Mr. Krum," he said, a noticeable hint of excitement in his voice. "What an absolute pleasure." He turned to Hermione, a noticeable cooling in his voice. "And guest."

Hermione could practically feel Krum bristle beside her. "Our table," he practically growled. "I believe I requested an outdoor table if the weather was nice."

The man sniffed and collected two menus. "Right this way,” he said, turning his back to them. Hermione and Viktor followed through the beautiful restaurant, weaving through small tables filled with glamorously well-dressed people. There were a fair share of murmurs as they- or, rather, Viktor – attracted the attention of the crowd. It seemed that her friend was used to it, even if he didn't like it. Unlike other sports stars, Viktor did not strut and preen with the attention. Instead he seemed prone to attempt to fold in on himself, allow his walk to become more and more duckfooted, more and more awkward. Gently, Hermione squeezed the arm she held. Viktor gave her a grateful look, and straightened the hunch in his back a tad.

They were led through a door in the back into a lovely garden pavilion, clearly shaped through magic. The air was neither too warm nor too cold, small candles flickered in nonexistent wind, and the sweet perfume of flowers was an undercurrent with every breath. It was gentle and lovely and Hermione felt a genuine smile come to her face.

Their table was near a trellised wall of the garden. The white table cloth was pristine, and small globes of magical light hung in the air above their heads. The couple sat down, menus were given, and they were left alone.

Hermione had warned Krum that from the moment they left the house, they would have to act the entire time. Still, she was slightly nervous. If there was the need for it, she could make sure that Rita would only write what Hermione wished, but really, she didn't quite want to resort to that. If everything could just go smoothly, life would be much easier.

"Are you knowing what you want, my dear?" asked Krum, setting down his menu politely.

Hermione smiled at him, and set down her menu. "I'll have the duck breast, I believe," she said smoothly. "And you?"

"Steak," said Krum with satisfaction. "It is good here. Not quite like at home, but that is to be expected."

Hermione reached across the table, and Krum slid his hand into hers. "Well, someday you'll have to show me." His eyes were sparkling with good humor.

Over the food and the wine, conversation progressed easily. The food and the wine were both excellent, of course, but the conversation was simply… nice. Krum was smart enough, Hermione knew, and he was kind and sweet and pleasant to talk to. Still, Hermione was finding that more than ever she missed the dark, sharp humor of the man waiting for her at home. Krum was sweet, yes, he was too sweet. There was no fun in bantering with him, no risk of being cut. What was the fun without the risk?

Still, it was nice to be out on a date. It had been hilariously fun getting ready with Tonks. Hermione liked the way her lips looked when they stood out vividly from her face, she liked the way her eyes were more defined. She felt older, more comfortable in her skin. But she also wished Severus could see her like this… despite what had happened last time she had been dressed up in front of them.

It was a lull in the conversation, when the wine glass felt heavy in her hand and the wine itself had made her languorous, thoughtful. Her mind turned to that night, to the darkness of her room and his hands on her in the mirror. She ached so much for that again, for his hands on her.

"What are you thinking about?" Krum asked, his eyes warm and dark. "You look happy."

Hermione smiled at him. "Nothing appropriate for dinner conversation," she said, flapping a hand dismissively. "Do you want dessert?

Krum shook his head. "No. I am fine. And you?"

Now she was eager to get home. There was a slight thrill running along her spine and down her arms that she knew was there because Severus had requested that she let him know when she returned. There was a question of what would happen when she returned. What would he do, what would he say? There was also always the small fear now that it would be something horrible, but Hermione firmly told herself that it would not be the case. Silently, she shook her head.

"Then let us leave," Krum said, raising a hand and calling over the waiter. Before the man could bring the bill Krum gave him a small bag of gold. Hermione almost cringed seeing it- the meal had been almost horrifically expensive.

His arm was offered, and accepted. A slight buzzing around Hermione's head made her resist, once more, to swat at the bug.  _ The night is done _ , Hermione thought wearily.  _ Well, almost done, anyway _ .

She was not prepared for the flashbulbs in her face when they stepped out of the door. They burned across her eyes, made her want to grab her wand and start cursing people, grab her knives and start slashing. Only the fact that Krum was holding her right hand- her wand hand- tightly stopped her from injuring someone. Quickly, he drew her to him, and Hermione tucked her face into his shoulder.

"How long have you and Miss Granger been back together?"

"Was this your first date in London?"

"Are you living together?"

"Was this why you've taken a break from Quidditch?"

"Will you be returning to the Bulgarian team or looking for a spot on the English team?"

"Are you friendly with Harry Potter?"

The questions were relentless, the flashbulbs going off as they made their way through the crowd. There was a shouted warning from Viktor, and then they were squeezing through time and space, vanishing into the night.

They landed in a secluded alley in the center of London. Hermione broke free of Viktor, going to lean against the wall and breathe heavily. "They're mad," she croaked. "Just mad."

Viktor nodded. "I can see why you would not want that kind of life," he admitted, looking down. "It is invasive."

Hermione nodded emphatically. "Did you not Apparate directly home in case one of them grabbed us?" she asked.

"It's happened before," Viktor said gravely, offering her a hand once more. "Back home?"

Hermione accepted it readily. "Yes," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. "And let's make plans to leave."

* * *

To the surprise of Severus Snape, Hermione asked if they could meet in Grimmauld Place instead of Safe House Three. He agreed with only a hint of trepidation. If they were meeting in Grimmauld Place, then they were meeting in his room, on his ground. Severus preferred that to her room in a way, the room where so much had happened.

Leaving Wormtail drugged and snoring was easy enough, and Apparating to Headquarters more habit now than anything else. It was strange that the summer was already drawing to a close- soon the school year would start again, and he would be back in the classroom, teaching a fresh batch of new young dunderheads. However, it was the first year that he would not be teaching Potions. No, now that job had been given back to Professor Horace Slughorn. Severus was not sure how he felt about it- so much was changing this year that it hardly felt like returning at all.

There was no one in the foyer of Grimmauld Place when he arrived, but Severus could hear voices in the kitchen. He stalked through the halls silently, having been in the house enough times to know which floorboards creaked and which portraits to acknowledge and which to avoid eye contact with.

He could feel her presence in his rooms before he opened the door- he smiled to himself, unaware that he was doing so. As he had predicted, Hermione was indeed in his room, seated at his desk looking over his new lesson plan. She looked up at the noise, giving him a smile when she met his eyes.

"Hullo," she said, her voice low and slightly husky.

He nodded at her, removing his robe with a flourish and hanging it up. "Good evening," he replied. He unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling them up his forearms. Her eyes followed the movement hungrily. It made his belly clench.

She pushed her chair back from the desk. "The lesson plan looks good," she told him matter-of-factly. "Complex certainly, but good. If we had had a good set of previous teachers, I'd have said it goes over too many things we should already know, but it fills in a lot of the patches. I'd take out some of the stuff about magical creatures for my year at least- we had all we could handle with Lupin."

Severus gave her a scowl that he didn't really mean. "We've haven't even been talking properly for a week and already you're critiquing my job performance," he muttered.

Hermione stood, leaning against the desk in lieu of walking toward him. "I get rather cranky if I don't get to critique something. And if I get cranky, then you'd have to cheer me up." His eyes flicked over her form appreciatively. She was still wearing the deep blue dress she had worn to dinner with Viktor, still wearing the heels and the stockings, still wearing the pearl necklace that he had given her. The dress clung to her breasts and her hips, was tight against her waist.

"I don't think I'd mind that task nearly as much as you seem to think I would," he murmured, closing the distance between them. With a surety that sent a flutter up Hermione's spine, he slid his hands from the dip of her waist to her hips, holding her securely. Without her needing to consciously think about it, her legs slid apart, allowing him to stand between her legs. The heels gave her just enough height that he wouldn't have to bend terribly to kiss her, if he was so inclined. Hermione's back was arched, pressing her chest toward him.

Slowly, slowly, Severus lowered his head until his lips were millimeters from hers. "Tell me," he breathed. "Did Krum kiss you tonight?"

"No," Hermione whispered. "He was a perfect gentleman."

His lips curved in a possessive smile. "Good," he said. "Because I'm not." He slanted his lips over hers roughly, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. There was nothing in his mind but the taste of her lips, the way her body felt against his. There was a slight pain as she pulled at his hair, which he responded to with a small nip.

It was a long while before they parted, both breathing harder than they had before. "How long are you here for?" asked Hermione, moving some papers so that she could sit properly on the desk.

Severus reached a hand up and stroked her cheek. "The night," he replied. "And you? When do you leave for the continent?"

Hermione rolled her neck back with a series of small popping sounds. "Tomorrow afternoon, I think," she said with satisfaction. "Could I spend the night?"

"If you would like to," he told her. "I would certainly like you to. We need to talk about how the school year is going to go. Establish boundaries, and such."

Hermione sighed. "You'd think with the end of our world as we know it approaching, with this war all around us and looming in the future, you'd be less concerned about boundaries," she muttered. "What if I die a virgin tomorrow?"

"If you want sex, we can do sex," Severus said, crossing his arms and glaring at her. "I thought we weren't doing sex for a reason. If there is no reason, I know a certain appendage of mine would love to ravish you right here and now." It was true- there was a tent in his pants that Hermione had felt making an appearance when he had been kissing her.

Hermione groaned, kicking off her shoes and letting them clatter to the floor. "We do have reasons," she said, sighing. "But can we at least- well, if not sex right away, start working up to that? Slowly?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Working up to it? And how slowly?"

There was a long moment when Hermione thought, chewing on her lower lip. "Let's set a start date. If nothing goes wrong until then, my birthday. September 19. It'll be a Thursday this year."

"And what will we do on your birthday, September 19, a Thursday?" asked Severus, moving closer to her once again. He kissed the side of her neck, sucking gently at her pulse. "Where do you want to start?"

"We'll figure it out," Hermione said definitively. "Plans. We have a plan."

Severus chuckled. "And you like plans."

Hermione grinned at him. "I do. And now I'd like to plan for other things, in something more comfortable. Now that you've seen me in the dress, can I borrow a shirt? To sleep in. Just for the night of course."

That assertion was met with a snort. "So you say every time, I'm sure, but that has nothing to do with the number of tee shirts that have mysteriously disappeared from my drawers. I don't have so many that I wouldn't notice, you know," he said, kneeling at the wardrobe to rummage through his meager collection of non-dress shirts. "Here. Don't you have your own night clothes upstairs?"

Hermione smiled sweetly at him, and took the shirt. "Yes. Unzip me, please?"

She hopped off the desk, turning to present her back to him. Without ceremony, he drew the metal zipper down her back, then stepped away and turned his back, presumably to freshen the linens. Hermione sighed and stepped out of the dress, pulling the shirt over her head. He was tall enough that it fell almost two inches above her knee.

"I'm decent," she told him teasingly. "You can stop pretending to fluff pillows now." She folded her dress and placed it over his chair.

What Hermione was not expecting were the strong arms that came around her waist, lifting her into the air before setting her down on the bed. He followed her quickly, ducking down to kiss her. "That was for being annoying earlier," he told her loftily. "I have to make use of my superior strength when I can."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. "We need a date with the practice room when school starts up again," she told him. "Let's see who can take who by surprise then."

Severus kissed her again. "It's a date, then," he said. "What other planning did we have to do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 52. 
> 
> I look forward to all comments and kofis - thank you to all of you lovely people. I'm starting grad school this week (eek) and my textbooks are more expensive than I remembered. 
> 
> I'll see you all on Saturday! As you can see... this story is going to slowly get a little smuttier. :)


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, as per usual, and many thanks to everyone for all of the comments, kudos, and kofis! I'm so glad you all are enjoying this story so much! Parts of this chapter are taken from HBP!

**_Chapter 53_ **

The rumble of the train tracks and the passing of the countryside were monotonous for some, but for Hermione Granger, it was relaxing. There was something very beautiful about the setting sun in the sky and the ground constantly moving and changing minutely. Life goes on, it seemed to say. Everything is moving forward and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

Except there was something. A tiny hourglass currently nestled between her breasts had the power to send her hurtling back through time. With a few grains of sand and a lump of metal, she could make the train move backwards.

Albania had been a bust. Nothing there, except for trees, trees, and more trees. A few legends of a patch of woods where a lot of wildlife, especially snakes, had died, but nothing particular that pointed to a Horcrux being anywhere in the forest. There was no doubt that Riddle had been there at some point, probably after he had been cast from his body, but all of the traces of malevolent magic were more than five years old. So, the end result had been a disheartened team, a week wasted, and a lot of time without Severus that could have been time with Severus.

At least she would see him tonight. Because of a mess with the Portkeys, Hermione had not gotten back to Britain until the night before. There had been no time to see Severus. He had sent her a goodnight message every night through their watches, as a reassurance of sorts, but that was all of the communication that they had had.

And she had needed the reassurance. The article that Rita Skeeter had written had horrified her for a good few days. Krum thought it was hilarious, but Hermione had been mortified.

_ "The two lovebirds spent a romantic evening eating by candlelight on the pavilion…" _

_ "It is unknown when exactly Miss Granger and Mr. Krum reignited their relationship" _

_ "… subtle hints were made by both Mr. Krum and Miss Granger that 'dessert' would be waiting for them at 'home,' leading to rumors that the two are already living together…" _

The article had been accompanied by a few photos of the two of them enjoying their dinner- Hermione hadn't even noticed those being taken which had disturbed her greatly- and then the pictures when they had left the restaurant. There was one in particular where Krum's arm was protectively around her waist and she was turning into him so that they could Apparate away that looked particularly romantic.

They had left the next day for Bulgaria, and there had been more photographers at the Portkey station. Hermione had liked that picture- they were holding hands, she had large sunglasses on and a scarf around her head. It was quite glamourous.

Of course, they had had to deal with the consequences when they returned. There were questions, from Ron, from Ginny, from all of the Weasleys. Hermione and Krum had decided to say that they weren't actually dating, just friends, but they had decided to go on the trip together. It didn't appear that anyone (apart from Harry, who knew about their plot), quite believed them, but the two of them didn't quite care. Ron was pouty for a good while, and Ginny pestered Hermione about it for the remainder of the time she was at Headquarters.

Now, in the compartment, Ron dozed against Ginny's shoulder as his sister read a magazine. Harry was staring out at the countryside opposite her, his glasses askew on his nose. He was lost in thought, fiddling with a button on his robes. Neville was seated next to Hermione, and Luna next to him. Both were perusing Luna's copy of the  _ Quibbler. _

Harry, Neville, and Hermione had recently returned from their first Slug Club meeting. That had been almost painful – the first thing that Slughorn wanted to know was if Hermione was actually dating Viktor Krum. The second, which he had hinted at, was if she had actually brought down Bellatrix Lestrange. Both questions Hermione had refused to answer in any great detail. For the first question, she demurred with "Viktor is very private, but I'll tell you what the papers already told the world – we had a lovely vacation together on the continent for a week, and we were visiting his family."

But as soon as Slughorn had started to hint that he wanted to discuss the Department of Mysteries, Hermione had pinned him with a cold stare. He had deflated a bit, especially when she made a show of fingering her wand. Harry, next to her, had also tensed up. Neville looked as if he were vaguely scared, but trying not to show it.

Thankfully they had made it out of the cramped little carriage no worse for wear. Harry had been a bit upset with the whole thing, but Hermione had pacified him.

"Remember, Dumbledore wanted him teaching here this year for a reason," she whispered. "Let's stay friendly until we figure out what that reason is."

Having a new mystery always did Harry some good. He brightened up a bit, giving her a conspiratorial nod.

The summer had seemed to last forever. There had been that beautiful part the beginning when everything had been going right, and then… and then. And then she had found out that Harry had a Horcrux in his skull and Cedric had seen her and Severus together. Dumbledore's hand had burnt to a crisp, all over the folly of a child's story.

That was the part that rankled her. A child's story, just a fairy tale, and a mind as great as Dumbledore's thought it was true. He had thought it was true, and now his hand was withered and the curse was slowly creeping up his body, seeping into his veins and crawling toward his heart, ready to be spread to the rest of his body. Over a fairy tale.

A fairy tale with a huge following, at least. After her conversation with Severus, Hermione had looked into the Deathly Hallows. There were those who took up the Quest to find them, hundreds of witches and wizards around the world. Dumbledore was just of many other nutters who spent their spare time and energy in pursuit of a way to bring back loved ones or stave off death for themselves. Hermione could objectively know that feeling – she had wanted, for the moment in which she had believed in the Hallows- to become the Master of Death if only to save Harry from what was looking more and more like what would simply be his fate. If she lost Severus, there was much that Hermione would do to bring him back again.

It was the fear of death that didn't quite make sense to her. Everyone had their time, and if they weren't routinely doing things as dangerous as the hobbies Hermione had chosen for herself, it could be a long time coming. Who would be so scared of death that they would waste their lives in pursuit of three mysterious items out of an old fairy tale?

_ Well, that isn't quite true, _ she thought.  _ I do know one person who fears death so greatly there are few lengths to which he would not go. _

The Dark Lord feared death so much that he would take the lives of others in order to preserve his own. He would rend his soul not in two, but in seven. He would fight and kill and burn and manipulate and torture all for his own ends.

_ He probably believes in the bloody hallows, _ thought Hermione derisively.  _ I wonder if we could use that? _

She would run it by Severus that evening. Earlier that morning, before Hermione had slipped back to the room she shared with Ginny, they had made plans to meet in his rooms once most of the castle was safely abed.

Oh, she missed that bed and that little cocoon of comfort and warmth. Their legs were tangled under the covers, his chest was a pillow for her head, and his arms were sure and tight around her. It was the rise of his chest under her head that told her that he was breathing – Severus was an extraordinarily quiet sleeper. Part of the reason that Hermione loved staying the night with him was the way he held her, as if he could never let her go.

He had woken up first, at the first blush of light in the sky, as he usually did. He had shifted under her, kissing the side of her face. She had woken slowly, as he teasingly stroked the place where the hem of her shirt met the skin of her thighs. They had spoken in hushed tones, planned a meeting, then she had slipped out of his bed and vanished into the hallway.

It was like it had been before, the one night she had left him in his rooms, sprawled on the floor with only the moonlight to illuminate his features. A bed was much more comfortable, she decided, but she did love that boyish look on his face of want.

"We're pulling up the castle," said Harry abruptly. "Ten minutes, tops."

Hermione sighed, rolling her head from side to side on her neck. "Back to the grind." In reality it would be a break- simple schoolwork wouldn't be as difficult as dealing with Order business full time over the summer had been. What would be more difficult would be to deal with the stares, the never-dying stares. This time she was coming back as the presumed girlfriend of a celebrity and the murderess of a legend – the stares were bound to be worse.

* * *

Hermione padded through the halls of Hogwarts under Harry's stolen Invisibility Cloak. As she descended deeper and deeper into the dungeons, the halls grew colder and colder, making her shiver in the thin clothes she had decided to wear. That decided it- Severus had seen her in a whole host of outfits covered in everything from mud to blood. She didn't need to dress to impress him. Not that what she was wearing was particularly impressive… but at least it wasn't her school uniform.

She had just started to turn the knob on his office door when a low voice surprised her from the corridor.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Startled, Hermione jumped back, pointing her wand at the dark figure in the shadows. To her relief, the lean form that peeled away from the corner was familiar, if not overwhelmingly friendly. "That's not my office anymore."

Hermione paused, and then groaned. "I forgot. I hadn't realized that becoming Defense Against the Dark Arts professor meant that you-"

"Changed to the office and rooms of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" asked Severus dryly. "How unreasonable."

Hermione stuck out her tongue at him, then realized she was still hidden. "You're a mean bastard," she told him instead. "I'll follow you."

With a smirk and a flourish of his robes, Severus stalked off, leaving her to trail behind him. He cut a powerful figure in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a slim form made menacing in voluminous dark robes. His graceful movements lent his form a predatory air, one of a hunter carefully seeking out his prey. It made Hermione's belly clench in a particularly delighted way, even as she trotted to keep up with him.

They arrived at the office, the door as familiar as her own name. The inside, however, had never been the same the six years that Hermione had attended the school. There was a glimmer of anticipation as she waited for him to unlock the door.

Gone were the floating jars full of suspicious creatures that had been the hallmark of Severus' old office. Gone was the dank smell, the dim light, and the cramped space. No, this office seemed downright luxurious compared to the old one.

There were a few old tapestries on the walls, in muted colors of greens and browns. Each was a different panel of the same story, a pack of hunters chasing a white deer. The floor had a large rug flung over the flagstones, and there were heavy curtains over what Hermione suspected was a large window with a view of the lake. The desk was huge and imposing, with two armchairs before it of middling comfort, a far cry from the deliberately uncomfortable chairs of the previous office. Most notably, perhaps, there were no portraits on the walls.

Once the door was firmly locked behind them, Hermione took off the cloak, draping it over one arm. "This is lovely," she said quietly, looking around. "Much cheerier than the old one."

Severus looked at her for a long moment. "I think that for whatever folly it is, for however fleeting it is, I am much happier now than I ever thought I could be when I was decorating the old one."

Hermione felt the familiar tug in her heart, the one she felt every time he reminded her of how lonely, how miserable, how completely devoid of pleasure of his life had been before she had really known him. "Oh, Severus," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think it's folly at all."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Slowly, Severus walked toward her. He stroked the side of her face with one finger. "You are neither fleeting nor folly," he said quietly, his voice rough. "And it is safe to say that nearly all my happiness rests with you."

She couldn't help it- Hermione reached up and kissed his lips gently, feeling the roughness of his chin against hers and drinking in the feel of his lips. It was only a brush, however- for some reason, it still felt too much like being out in the open.

"How do you get to your rooms from here?" she whispered.

Severus sighed, and kissed her forehead. "If we go into my rooms we have to do work," he said. "Can't I just stand here and kiss you a bit longer?"

Hermione laughed, then shook her head. "No," she told him. "We get our work done, and then you can kiss me as much as you want."

He took her hand, and pulled her to the corner of the room. There was a Notice-Me-Not charm on the door, so it took her a long moment to make out the change in the stone that marked the entrance to his rooms. At Severus' touch, the doorknob turned easily and the door swung open, into a set of rooms that were plain and sparse. Once again, there was a large potions cabinet that they stepped through.

Once again, Hermione was surprised at the rooms that appeared. "This is new too," she said, stroking Severus' hand. "I like it."

Once again there was a little kitchenette, with a stovetop and cabinets made out of dark wood. There was a fire crackling happily in the fireplace, warming the room beautifully. There were large soft couches around the fire. There were only two pieces of furniture from his old rooms- the wing-backed leather armchair that was Severus' usual seat of choice and the plush armchair that had become Hermione’s. In this room, there were large windows that looked out on the grounds, with the faint lights of Hogsmeade in the distance. There was a door in the back that Hermione knew would lead to Severus' bedroom and the attached bath.

"Tea?" he asked. "I ran out of mine and I haven't had the time to blend it again, so it'll be whatever kind they have in the kitchens."

Hermione nodded her assent, going to take her place in her armchair. Instead of hers and Severus' being across from each other as they had been, now they were close enough for them to hold hands as they read, or for Hermione to drape her feet against his lap. It made a shiver run up her spine, for all she knew that Severus wasn't the cutesy type.

They were halfway through the pot of tea when Hermione cautiously brought up the idea that she had had on the train.

"How much does the Dark Lord trust you right now, Severus?" she asked. "Where does he believe you stand between him and Dumbledore?"

Her man sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles. "It fluctuates, day to day," he replied. "I think that every time a part of his soul is destroyed, he grows less stable. Some days he is sure that I stand in Dumbledore's good graces, some days I am in disgrace. Some days he thinks that I am Dumbledore's lapdog, and other times his own. So the short answer is, I am not stable. If I had something big to give him, I might be, but I don't think that there is anything big that can happen now that Potter is back here."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, staring down into her teacup. "What if we made something up? A juicy tidbit of information to distract him, to make him think that you are loyal, and to give him an impossible task?"

Severus stiffened, narrowing his eyes at her. "You have a plot," he said, his voice wary. "How long have you been cooking up this one?"

Hermione shrugged uncomfortably. "Not very long," she admitted. "I wanted you to help me iron out the kinks, so to speak."

"Then continue," he said, not returning to the relaxed lounge he had held before. His shoulders were razor-sharp and stiff, and his hands were rigid.

Hermione took a breath, feeling pinned like a butterfly on a board under his gaze. "I was thinking. Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore, believes in the Deathly Hallows. He believed in them enough to do something so stupid he put his life in jeopardy. So, what if, we can make the Dark Lord do something similar? If you told him about Dumbledore's accident, if you tell him that the Headmaster weakened himself trying to find the Hallows, then you can gain his favor. If the Dark Lord is spending his time chasing down the Hallows, he's wasting time he could spend doing other things. I think he could easily become obsessed over the idea of becoming the Master of Death, obsessed enough that maybe we could lure him into a trap."

Severus held up a hand, thinking for a long moment. Hermione watched him nervously. In the firelight, his face was cast mostly into shadow, giving him a severe look she normally associated with his teacher persona. "It is crazy," he said flatly. "People know that the Deathly Hallows don't exist. I try to suggest it to him, another pureblood exposes the lie in an instant and my head's on a platter."

"But you can convince him, I know you can, Severus," she said. "Dumbledore. Dumbledore is our proof. He's the only wizard that Voldemort ever feared, so saying that he believes in it would carry a lot of weight. There have to be some purebloods that agree- we could use Draco, maybe-"

"Draco isn't a pawn," Severus snarled.

"Yes, he is," Hermione said back, with just as much heat in her voice. "We are all pawns. For as much as we want to believe that-"

"You and I are controlling things now, Hermione!" Severus spat. "We are the ones plotting and manipulating and guiding these two despots. Albus Dumbledore isn't the chess master anymore. It's us."

Hermione leaned in, meeting his intense gaze with her own. "Then let's play the damn game."

"This was part of the reason I didn't want to do this again," Severus said, turning away abruptly. "I've only just started to realize I don't want to die, Hermione. This is risky."

Hermione reached out, rubbed his shoulder. "I know," she said. "If you don't want to do it, we don't have to. It was just an idea, Severus."

He took her hand, stroking the soft skin. "I will at least start sniffing out who else would counter me on this," he said. "If we are careful, we could make it work."

"He's obsessed enough with evading death to make Horcruxes, Severus. Not a Horcrux, Horcruxes, Severus. He'd like any idea you'd bring up about dodging death. And maybe we could even use his own paranoia against him," suggested Hermione. "But think about it."

"I will," he reassured her. "Anything else that we need to plan for?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. Is it time to put work aside?"

Severus' fingers curled around her wrist. "I think so," he said, his voice suddenly much more seductive.

Following the slight pressure on her wrist, Hermione rose and went over to his chair. It was wide enough and Severus was slim enough that Hermione could easily straddle him in the chair, her knees on either side of his thighs. He was tall enough that even with her kneeling, and him sitting, that he was taller than she was.

Hermione let her lips slide against his teasingly, a kiss just on the other side of chaste. He responded languorously, one hand sliding up her back.

"There might be some planning left to do," Hermione said huskily, kissing him again. "We were going to make plans for what we would do after my birthday."

"Were we, now?" asked Severus. His hands were at her hips now, pulling her center toward his.

Hermione kissed his neck, then leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "For planning purposes… what do you want to do to me?"

Severus chuckled low in this throat, one hand curling into her hair. "There are many things I'm planning on doing to you, Hermione. You'll just have to wait and see."

"It sounds like you have a definitive idea," Hermione said suspiciously. "Tell me."

"I don't want to spoil the surprise," he said, kissing the line of her chin and then the skin under her ear. He nipped at her earlobe carefully.

Hermione pulled away, pouting at him. "I don't like surprises," she said.

Severus regarded her for a short moment. "Trust me." Slowly, he ran a hand from her up her side, caressing her ribcage and ending right under her breast.

Hermione let out a shaky breath. "I trust you."

Severus leaned in and captured her mouth, kissing her hard. "Then you'll see on your birthday," he told her.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was on edge before they even made it to class. She had walked home from the dungeons flustered and what she understood to be sexually frustrated, and now she was going to class with a poor night's sleep under her belt. A class with  _ Snape _ nonetheless. And everyone was staring just as much as she had expected, except they were  _ whispering _ also. They didn't think she could hear them, but ever since her Polyjuice accident the year before, she could. And it was driving her mad. Finally, the classroom settled and Hermione sank into her role of student, feeling comfortable at last.

And she was lost as soon as he started speaking.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." His voice was smooth and low and deadly, weaving in through and around the words with a kind of loving respect that bordered on admiration. She felt the call of his voice deep in that place under her navel that ached every time he kissed her.

Part of her felt like the snake held captive by the man with the flute, rising higher and higher in her chair with the enchanting lure of his words. Oh, he called to every part of her, and she felt like the tension was so tight she burned with it.

But beyond even his voice she knew what he was talking about to the depths of her bones. She had spent the last months buried in books about the Dark Arts, allowing her mind to follow the paths that twisted and turned and had been birthed in the most deviant minds known to man. She knew the danger and difficulty of trying to unravel a problem that the Dark Arts wished to stay a problem. She knew how it felt when everywhere she turned there was nothing but confusion and yet another tricky riddle to puzzle through.

She had to stop herself from answering his questions when he asked, unsure of how her voice would sound when she spoke. There was no doubt that Hermione knew what nonverbal spells were like. Of course she knew, of course she remembered what it was like when he was teaching her nonverbal spells and when he was teaching her wandless spells and when he was in her mind and inside and outside her at once. Would that be like sex, she wondered?

In that moment their eyes met and the heat in her mind flashed to his. It lasted only a hint of a second, before his eyes were away from hers again, and he was breaking the class into pairs. Shame broke over her, deep and hot, regret over not being able to control herself in class.

Severus was visibly upset, if only to her. Honestly, Hermione was surprised that he didn't respond worse to Harry's cheek, limiting himself to a detention and points away from Gryffindor. She didn't meet his eyes on the way out of the room, ducking her head and busying herself in Ron and Harry's conversation.

Of course, it left her in an abominably bad mood and by the time they got to Potions, Hermione was in no mood to be polite.

Hermione was completely taken aback when they walked into the dungeon classroom. It smelled better than it ever had before, a curious mix of the faint rubbery smell of the practice room, old books and melted candles, and very distinctly of the herb and smoke and man smell that was Severus, so strongly that she lifted her head sharply to look for him, lowering her gaze just in time to see the book that Ron was pouting over.

The book was small, thinner than the current edition, and desperately raggedy. The pages were yellowed and stained with the remnants of various potions and ingredients. The binding had weakened over the years, and some of the yellowed pages were barely held in. However, the part of the book that fascinated her the most was the thin, spiky handwriting in every clear space in margins and between the lines and sometimes over the printed text itself. She had recognized the handwriting right away, as a less sophisticated form of the one that Severus used today.

Therefore, it was the work of a moment and of a strong instinct for Hermione to snatch it from Ron the moment she saw it. "Here, use mine and I'll use this one," she had said irritably, disguising her immediate interest in the book.

Slughorn called the class over to three cauldrons that were simmering at the front of the classroom. The class – smaller now than it had ever been – crowded around the cauldron that Slughorn had indicated would be the first under the class' examination.

The corkscrew smoke rising off the top and the pearly sheen immediately caught Hermione's eye. She breathed in deeply, feeling Severus himself was standing right in front of her. There was a yearning pull from deep within her bones to that cauldron.

"Ahh – I see that Miss- Granger, is it? Yes? That Miss Granger here is already feeling the effects of this one," he said, chuckling happily. Hermione blushed deeply, drawing laughs from the rest of her classmates. "Would you care to share?"

Hermione held her head high, firmly ordering the blush to depart. "It's Amortentia," she said. "Mother of pearl sheen, corkscrew spirals, the most powerful love potion in the world. It also smells different to everyone – like the things or the person they love."

Slughorn laughed again, a great belly laugh that made his walrus moustache wiggle. "Yes, yes, Miss Granger. Now, who can identify the next one?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air. "Veritaserum, sir," she answered. "It's a truth-telling potion – the most powerful truth-telling potion, actually."

"And the last?" he asked, looking at her curiously. "What's that one, Miss Granger?"

Hermione didn't even need to look into the cauldron, looking into those small, curious eyes instead. "Polyjuice, sir."

"What brings you to that conclusion?" asked Slughorn, impressed.

"The smell," Hermione replied. "It's quite… distinctive." She swallowed quickly, feeling for some reason that there was the sludgy feeling of Polyjuice in her throat.

Dean Thomas raised his hand. "Sir? Is that one really the last?" His gaze flicked over to a small cauldron sitting on Slughorn's desk.

Slughorn smiled widely. "Ah, yes. That one is a favorite of mine. I had almost forgot…" He led the class to another cauldron, an absurdly tiny one, where little golden drops were acrobatically leaping over the surface of the potion. Hermione looked at it curiously, then smiled in recognition.

"I see someone recognizes this one," Slughorn said jovially. "Your guess, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up at him with no slight awe. "Felix Felicis. Also known as liquid luck – that's almost impossible to brew!"

Slughorn looked extremely pleased with her praise. "Almost impossible, but not quite. Take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed . . . at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," said Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing, you know . . . highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally . . ." He was greatly enjoying the sudden attentiveness of the class, and was hamming it up to maximum effect.

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner with great interest.

"Twice in my life," said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

He gazed off dreamily to the distance, and Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly. He was planning something, and Hermione wasn't sure that something was a plan she would like very much.

"And that," said Slughorn, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson." There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold. "One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt."

_ And there it is _ , Hermione thought, sighing gustily in her head.  _ I have to win that. Harry needs it more than anyone else in this classroom. Except for Draco, maybe, but I'd rather Harry's skin be saved by a little liquid luck than Draco's. _

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions . . . sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only . . . and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary! So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was practically a stampede for the supply closet. Hermione pulled the worn old book close, flipping to the page that Slughorn had indicated. There were comments scribbled in every free space, in the margins, between lines of instructions- even lines through instructions. She squinted closer at them.

_ Crush beans, that gives more juice _

_ Don't bother steaming the beetle wings, it doesn't change a thing and it wastes time _

_ Add a clockwise stir after every seven counterclockwise _

Hermione traced the writing with a finger for a moment, then snapped into action, heading into the supply closet. She needed to win this prize.

What followed was an hour of almost frantic brewing. Hermione kept an eye on Harry's potion as well as her own.

"Crush the beans with the knife," she whispered to him, when his potion was a deep shade of violet instead of the gentle lavender that it should have been. "Trust me, it worked." Her potion was barely purple it was so light. She only needed a handful of stirs to make it clear, and once again she shared the book's instructions with Harry.

The end of the class approached far too quickly. Everyone waited in absolute silence as Slughorn walked through the rows of cauldrons, peering into each one. He peeked into Draco's and made an approving hum, but frowned when he got to Zabini's.

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last, he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tar like substance in Ernie's cauldron. Ron's potion made Slughorn cover his nose and mouth with a handkerchief and cough violently.

Hermione waited, her heart beating fast in her chest, as Slughorn looked first into Harry's cauldron, and then into hers, and then back again. So it would be one of them, it seemed.

"Well, well, well," Slughorn said, rocking back on his heels and stroking his thick moustache. "This is interesting indeed. You both have done a fabulous job here, no doubt about it. But to whom goes the prize?"

"We could share it," suggested Harry. "Six hours each."

Hermione shook her head. "Give it to Harry," she said.

"The two of you remind me of two particular students I used to teach," said Slughorn, pausing in the stroking of his moustache. "In fact, Mr. Potter, you and Miss Granger remind me of your mother and a young friend of hers. They were excellent in potions, simply brilliant. It seems that you have inherited her skills, my boy!" Slughorn looked between them, then laughed. "Why not give you each the prize?" he said. He tapped the vial with his wand, duplicating it, and then carefully filled it with the dancing drops leaping over the cauldron.

Hermione and Harry made eye contact, and grinned. Each accepted their prize with solemn nods, aware of the eyes of the entire class on them. Draco's eyes were burning with anger.

Hermione didn't care as she clutched the small, precious bottle carefully. This would save lives – either hers, or someone she loved. She would add it to the glass and metal box that Severus had made for her, next to the three small vials that he had brewed for her.  _ Twelve hours of luck here, six in the box. Or three hours for six people.  _

She stroked the cover of the book carefully, her chest feeling tight. Severus' handwriting, there, had guided her. Severus, a Severus her own age (or rather, younger than her, she supposed) had written in his book, had experimented with potions even then, had noted down his observations with none of the finesse of a proper Potions Master but all of the intuition.

Later, in her dorm, Hermione poured through the book, reading each little notation. Most of them, she could figure out if she thought about it long enough, but some of the additions or annotations were beyond her grasp of potions.

But what really intrigued her were the spells in the margins. ‘ _ For enemies’ _ one was marked. Others had no such notations, but when she whispered the incantations, without any intentions behind them, she could feel either malevolence or mischief, and sometimes both. She had had no idea that Severus had started crafting spells from such a young age, nor such violence spells.

With a sigh, Hermione closed the book and blew out her candle. For some reason, she didn't know quite how she felt about Lily Potter being as brilliant at potions as Slughorn had indicated.

_ Don't think about it, _ she advised herself.  _ I have him now. He's mine. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 53. 
> 
> As you can see... it is getting a little raunchier! I'll update the tags next chapter. 
> 
> Comments and kudos much appreciated!
> 
> See you next Saturday ... and the next chapter is where this starts earning that Explicit rating!


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> As previously mentioned, I have updated the tags and this chapter earns the explicit rating. Enjoy!

_**Chapter 54** _

"You know, we need to start planning my attempted demise with Draco soon," Hermione said casually, turning a page in her book. Behind her, Severus had just entered his rooms.

He paused, taking in the sight of her in her usual armchair, waiting for him. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace, filling the room with warmth. The light from the fire outlined her pert nose and dark hair with gold. There was a quiet beauty about the woman with the book in front of the fire, a beauty that was slightly spoiled by her words.

"Good evening, Hermione. How nice to see you here, Hermione. How was your day, Hermione?" he said sarcastically. "Can't we get the pleasantries out of the way before talking about plotting and attempted demises?" He shrugged off his robes, hanging them on a hook by the door. Impatiently, Severus, unbuttoned the cuffs of his white shirt and rolled them up on his arms.

Hermione rolled her eyes good-heartedly. "Good evening, Severus. I let myself in, Severus. My day was long, Severus. Was that enough pleasantries for you?"

Severus came over, ducking down and brushing a kiss across her lips. "There we go," he said, taking his place in his armchair. "Fine. What about your attempted demise would you like to plan?"

Setting aside her book, Hermione stretched and yawned. "Not all of it, and not all right now. Just that I figured that the sooner we meet with Draco to plan the better. Also, I wouldn't mind some time off of classes to do work. I'm being swamped with reports now that everything is coming to me and not Dumbledore."

Severus frowned. "Is he putting too much on your shoulders?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Yes, but for good reason. He is slowly coming to realize that he will have to give up the running of the Order and so someone has to have all the information."

"And that someone needs to be you?" The harsh set of his mouth deepened. "I don't think –"

"He's right, I think," Hermione said quietly, looking at Severus with serious, dark eyes. "He's not going to give the running of the Order over to us. That would be foolish. And anyway, running organizations and managing politics isn't our favorite thing to do, nor is it one of your or my best talents. Leaving that to Kingsley or McGonagall or anyone else would be best. But what we can do is the information, Severus. That's the role we play in all of this. We are the counsel, the information, the people who aren't in the dark."

Severus ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I don't like it. I don't like you being perpetually exhausted."

He's worried about me, Hermione thought, smiling despite herself. "I'm taking care of myself, I promise, I'm just using the Time-Turner more than I should, perhaps. It is tiring - no, that isn't the right word... it's draining in a different kind of way. Magically, I think, rather than physically. Or physically too. I don't know for sure - I just know that my body is telling me that perhaps I shouldn't use it as often as I do."

"Didn't you mention something about the Ministry wanting that back?" asked Severus. "Didn't you crush all of them in your rampage through the Department of Mysteries last year?"

Hermione flapped a hand at him. "As far as they know, I returned it several days before the incident in the Department of Mysteries and it was crushed by complete accident. The only way they would catch me would be if they were monitoring temporal activity, and the wards on Hogwarts make that kind of difficult. There are so many magical artefacts here that mess with temporal and special magicks that they wouldn't notice little old me going back and forth for a few hours at a time."

"I remember one memorable incident with a Vanishing Cabinet last year," Severus remarked. "There was a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team who was trapped in one, and was spatially and perhaps temporally displaced for a while. When they got him out he was raving about deserts and dark magicks and goings-on in Hogwarts."

Hermione shivered. "I don't like the thought of that kind of cabinet," she said. "I've done more than my fair share I feel of messing with time itself."

Severus met her eyes. "Yes, you have, haven't you?" he murmured. "At this rate I'm surprised you haven't gone half mad with it."

There was something about this creature before him who looked like a mere girl but held time in her hands and bent it to her will. There had always been something a little fey about Hermione to Severus, but it was especially evident now. He wondered if it was time and space bent around her like heat waves around metal on a July day.

"We could use the Time-Turner for the attempted demise," suggested Hermione. "What were you thinking? A poisoning?"

Severus shook his head. "No, for two reasons. The first would be that no self-respecting male pureblood would kill someone with a poison, and the second would be that I would be called upon to brew an antidote, and so it would be blamed on me if you survived."

"So an accident then?" asked Hermione. "Something very dramatic-"

"No, it needs to be subtle," Severus said, a tone of reprimand in his voice. "Think like a Slytherin."

Hermione frowned at him. "Ok. What are your ideas?"

There was a long moment of quiet as Severus drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. "A dramatic poisoning," he announced.

Hermione glared at him good-naturedly, throwing up her hands. "What on earth are you talking about?"

A smile that was as crafty as it was wise slid onto Severus' face. "Say you are Draco. You want to avoid suspicion, so you automatically go for the opposite of what you would be expected to do. So you do a poisoning, to try to implicate a female, and then you make it dramatic so that people won't think it would be a Slytherin."

"So exactly what I said, then," Hermione said, a bit put out.

Severus shook his head. "No," he said. "It's completely different because it is for different meanings. Actions are colored by their intent, as you very well know. It is a different thing to poison just to kill and to poison to kill just to draw suspicion away from one's self."

Hermione sighed. "Fine. So how do I miraculously survive?"

Severus stroked his chin and thought about it for a long moment, before heaving a sigh. "We either need a dashing hero or for someone else to take the poison and for them to be saved."

"Well, let's figure out what this poison is going to be before we decided who it's going to be inflicted on," Hermione conceded, absentmindedly twirling a curl around her finger. "Any ideas there?"

"A few," admitted Severus. "But I would like to talk to Draco first. He might want some input into this decision making process. Give it his own personal touch, for authenticity. And if it is just him and I he can use the memories as fodder for fake memories for the Dark Lord to look through when he will undoubtedly do when punishing Draco for failing."

Hermione winced. "I had forgotten that Draco would be punished for failing." Her wince wasn't for Draco, but for the man in front of her who cared about him.

"He will not die because of it, which is less than could be said for you if you let him kill you, Hermione." There was no room for argument in Severus' tone. "Don't be ridiculous."

With a long groan, Hermione stood and promptly plopped down in Severus' lap. "Fine. Is there any other business talk we need to take care of tonight, or can I kiss you properly now?"

Severus made a show of thinking for a long minute, then leaned forward and caught her lips with his own.

* * *

The morning of her birthday, Hermione woke up to a rose in a glass vase on her bedside table. There was a note beside the rose that said simply, _8 o'clock._ It was not signed, and it was not even the handwriting of her lover. He had taken appropriate precautions – had Lavender seen the rose or not for some reason, she would not have hesitated to read it in delight, and may have recognized the handwriting of her previous Potions professor and current Defense Professor. A fission of delight ran through Hermione's body. Oh, if only eight o'clock wasn't so far away.

She stretched and yawned, relishing the warmth of her bed for a moment longer before dragging herself out of bed. It was time to start her day.

It was a day just like any other apart from the small gifts from Ron and Harry, a handful of owls landing in her breakfast bearing gifts and cards, and a halfhearted round of the birthday song around a piece of pudding at the dinner table. It was a Thursday, after all, and there was still homework to do and Quidditch practise to go to.

Still, every spare moment she had, Hermione thought about the agreement she had made with Severus. It was her birthday – and they had decided to do something more on her birthday. The thought of more made her heart beat fast in her chest. She could hear his dastardly chuckle and his voice, smooth and silky and utterly damning saying "There are many things I'm planning on doing to you, Hermione. You'll just have to wait and see."

At five minutes to eight, Hermione slipped inside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office and shut the door behind her. Her hair held a few slightly damp curls that had fallen from when she piled her hair on top of her head for her bath, and her cheeks were flushed, from anticipation or from the heat of the bath she didn't know. Severus was grading papers at his desk, but he looked up when the door opened and shut without any visible movement.

Hermione took a breath, composed herself, and then lowered the spell that kept her hidden. "Hullo," she said in a soft voice.

Severus looked her up and down, running his eyes along her body. She had decided to dress simply, as she always had when going to see him. Black skirt that fell around her knees and a dark green button-down blouse tucked in around her waist, showing how tiny it was. The color looked good on her, making her pale skin seem rich against the pink in her cheeks and her curls seem darker. He gave her the crooked smile that she had only seen him use between the two of them. "Hello, Hermione. Happy birthday."

She smiled back at him, taking a seat in front of his desk. "Thanks. Anything to re-"

"No," Severus said firmly. "No reports. It's a night just for us. Everything else can wait until tomorrow." In the vein of his words he laid down his quill and screwed the top on his bottle of bright red ink. He stood, stretched, and walked around the desk, holding out a hand to her. "Come with me."

Hermione took the hand, accepting the unnecessary help up. She was glad of it when he pulled her close to him, dipping his head to kiss her mouth gently. His lips merely brushed against hers, then he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and suckled it for a moment before brushing the tip of his tongue against her sensitive flesh. It was, unfortunately, a short kiss, as he pulled away only a moment later.

"My rooms, shall we?" he whispered.

"We shall," Hermione replied, turning her head and rising on tiptoes to kiss the side of his neck.

When they were in his living room, Severus turned to Hermione. "Tea?" he asked. "You look… nervous."

Hermione flushed, and nodded. "Tea would be lovely."

Severus pulled her to him again, holding her tightly. "Nervousness is not a problem, Hermione," he said quietly. "Only if it becomes fear."

Hermione nestled her head into his chest. "I'm not scared of you, Severus Snape," she said, an air of the playful in her voice. "Go make me tea!"

"You're bossy," he drawled. "You're lucky I like bossy."

"You hate bossy," Hermione reminded him. "It's not the bossy you like, it's me." She sat in her armchair, folding her legs neatly, and looked up at him with a trace of the smug in the tilt of her head.

Severus wrinkled his nose at her, in an unconscious approximation of the way she frequently did the same to him. "Hrumph. I concede you may actually be right."

Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "You know I am."

"I know nothing at all," Severus said blithely, turning his back and going into the kitchen. "In fact, I've forgotten what I'm even doing here."

Hermione laughed. "Making tea. Bloody hell, I forgot you actually had a sense of humor," she said, raising her voice so he could hear her from the kitchen.

"I have no such thing," Severus replied over the sound of running water. "I'm the black-hearted bat of the dungeons, remember?"

Again, he drew a laugh from her. "You don't live in the dungeons anymore, Severus," Hermione called back. "You're a proper tower dweller now."

"Even more appropriate for a bat. Caffeine or no?" His voice was full of dry humor.

"Yes, caffeine, or else I'll fall asleep while I'm trying to snog you. Just a bit will keep me from falling on my face. It is a Thursday, you know." Hermione leaned back in her chair, turning her face into the worn leather and inhaling the smell of his quarters. She loved this chair and she loved that man and she loved that once again she was sitting in front of his fire waiting for him to come and talk with her.

Shortly he came with the tea tray, and it was no time at all before she had a steaming mug of tea in her hands. "How was your day?" he asked. "I trust your friends remembered this time?"

Hermione smiled at him. "They did indeed. I got some nice books. And Luna gave me a pair of radish earrings. I considered wearing them tonight just to show you."

Severus raised a thin brow. "Oh? And why didn't you?"

The answer was pure and simple vanity. Hermione touched the pearl at her throat. "They didn't go with the necklace," she declared. "And I like the necklace better."

Severus reached out and caressed her collarbone, gently brushing against the pearl. "It looks perfect on you," he said quietly. "But radish earrings would look equally perfect." There was a rakish glint in his eyes, one that reminded her of Sirius Black in a sad way that twinged in a small spot in her chest.

"They would look equally odd," Hermione said tartly, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Severus drew his hand away with an exaggerated sigh. "Watch me try to compliment you again."

"By saying something as odd as Luna Lovegood could cook up would look lovely on me? You need to practice before trying to compliment me again," Hermione said with mock seriousness. "Honestly, Severus."

He chuckled. "Let's see," he said, drawing out the words. "Oh, Hermione, moon of my life, diamond of my eyes, fire of my heart-"

The string of ridiculous odes made Hermione double up with laughter. "Stop there," she ordered. "It all sounds so odd in your voice."

They were quiet for a few moments longer. "Did you like the rose?" Severus asked.

Hermione gave him a brilliant smile. "I loved it," she said. "Beautiful."

"I would say 'just like you, my dear,' but I fear you would only critique my complimenting skills," Severus said loftily.

Hermione reached out and took his hand. "It was sweet. Thank you."

As she had done, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "You're welcome. Are you done with your tea?" He didn't relinquish her hand.

Hermione tipped the mug back, finishing the last few drops. "Yes," she said, setting the mug down on the side table. "Now. What did you have planned?"

The look he gave her made Hermione purse her lips. "I told you it was a surprise," said Severus teasingly.

"But it's time for the surprise, so it can't be a surprise anymore," Hermione protested.

Severus thought about it for a moment. "Very well." He stood, drawing her up with him. He kissed her sweetly for a long moment, then drew away to speak, his lips brushing against hers with every word. "If you are uncomfortable at any time, Hermione, tell me to stop and I will."

Hermione reached up and kissed him deeply. "I know you would," she said. "Thank you."

He returned the kiss lazily for a stretch of time, then drew away again. "Come with me," he said, walking toward the almost hidden door in the back wall. "Let's go somewhere… more comfortable."

Hermione's heart jumped to her throat. Yes, they had been intimate in his rooms before, but always in his living room, never in his bedroom. They had kissed on his bed in Headquarters, but that wasn't the same. She had only seen his bedroom a few times, always out of necessity.

This bedroom was decorated in muted colors, grey and dark blue and black. The bed was quite large, with sheets such a pale grey they were almost white and a fluffy comforter of dark blue and dark grey. There were more windows than his last set of rooms, more lamps, but Hermione hardly noticed. She was focused on the bed.

That is, she was focused on the bed until Severus drew her to the tall floor length mirror in one corner. He met her eyes in the mirror. "I think fewer clothes might be in order."

"I agree," Hermione said, struggling to keep her voice level.

His hand went to her hips, grasping them tightly over the soft fabric of her skirt. Achingly slowly, his hands rose to her waist, to the bottom of her rib cage, then slipped around to her front to gently palm her breasts. Even with the layers of her bra and her shirt between them, she swallowed hard and restrained a gasp. Severus ducked down, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck as he unbuttoned her shirt. Hermione hardly noticed it, her head falling back against his chest as he continued his work. She noticed when the warmth of his front against her back moved away, as he stepped back to pull away her shirt. Briskly he folded it and set it on a chair, his eyes never leaving her reflection in the mirror.

He stepped closer again, his hands going to her skirt. He played with the skin just above the band of the skirt, kissing her neck and her shoulder. Hermione turned, capturing his lips with hers as he loosened the fastening and let her skirt pool at her feet. His hands roamed her bare skin, feeling the soft rise of her belly and the dip in of her waist and the flare of her hips. Fingers toyed with the top of her panties – lace, she remembered, bringing sudden heat to her face. White lace that very clearly showed the dark thatch of hair between her legs. Sensation was heightened terribly – she could hear his breathing and feel the press of the buttons of his shirt against her back and smell the aftershave he had used a few hours ago, given away by the smallest of rasps against her chin.

Severus' hands rose to her breasts again, squeezing them lightly through her bra. "Your breasts are magnificent," he said with a voice so rough it was almost a growl.

Hermione gasped slightly as he sucked the skin of her neck. "Now there's a good compliment," she said, arching her back. "You can take the bra off, if you like."

Severus looked up, his dark, hungry eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "I was planning to," he said in that same rough voice. He scooped her up suddenly, depositing her on the bed.

"You are wearing a lot of clothes," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes dangerously. "Off with them."

With a bow of a nod, Severus started to swiftly undo the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off with an easy grace that made Hermione jealous. Then came his trousers, and just like her, he was left in just his underwear. Black boxers, in this case, black boxers with the slightest of tents in them. Hermione felt the muscles of her abdomen tighten as she stared at the rise in his boxers. She hadn't felt it yet when he was pressed up against her, or if she had she hadn't noticed. She swallowed hard.

Severus followed her onto the bed, urging her back to lie on the pillows. He settled himself over her, kissing her fiercely. Oh, it was amazing to feel his back under her hands, to feel the weight of him on top of her, to feel that mysterious hardness pressing against her center so sweetly. Hermione didn't even notice when she moaned into his mouth, she only knew that this tongue was twining with hers and that while one hand was holding himself up so he didn't crush her, Severus' other hand was roaming from her hip to her waist and back again while his hips thrust into hers ever so slightly, a rocking motion so natural she suspected he didn't even notice he was doing it.

Somehow she lost her bra, and suddenly his mouth was suckling at one nipple and his wonderful, wonderful, devious fingers were twisting the other one. She was arching up into his mouth, making a keening sound that she didn't even hear. She felt so warm! Kissing him was wonderful and this felt charged, more electric than anything she had felt before. She was arching back up into him, angling her hips so that when he made those little rocking motions he was pressed up against her in the most amazing way –

And he pulled back, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"What?" she protested. "Come back here!"

Severus turned, sliding off the bed. "No," he called over his shoulder. "You haven't had your surprise yet." He padded into the adjoining bathroom, his erection pointing the way in front of him.

Hermione made a noise of protest, leaning against the pillows with a frown. "It's my birthday. I say more kissing."

Severus returned, holding an opaque flask. "And I said I had a surprise. While you're adorable when you pout, I doubt you'll be pouting after a nice long massage." He drew the words out, holding her eyes with his own.

At the word "massage," Hermione perked up considerably. "Well. That sounds… nice. Not as nice as snogging – "

"There can be more snogging," promised Severus. "After I give you a massage."

Hermione thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright. How do you want me?"

Severus’ eyes flickered over her body as he climbed back into the bed. "Six ways from Sunday. But on your front would work too."

Hermione flushed and complied, laying down with her breasts pressed against the coverlet. He straddled her, rubbing his erection into the swell of her bottom. "That's… lovely," he said, his voice low and throaty. "Just relax."

He poured the oil onto his hands, then slowly rubbed it into her flesh. It had only taken him an afternoon to brew, but it had come out perfectly. Her skin shone softly in the candlelight, her shoulder blades gilded gold and the shadows gentle. Severus loved the feeling of her skin under his hands, slick and smooth, and the sounds of her little moans as he rubbed a knot out of her shoulders. She was ticklish though – when he ran his thumbs up along either side of her spine from the small of her back, she squealed and bucked. His erection agreed with it much more than Severus had anticipated.

"You can't do that," he told her sternly. "Stay still."

"Mmmmm," she said in lazy agreement. "Whatever you say."

He moved from her back to her arms, rubbing the oil in with firm strokes until it was absorbed into her skin. Then her legs, starting at her feet and working his way up to her arse. He looked at that delicious swell of flesh for a long moment. Hermione had parted her legs for him to massage, and he could just see where her moisture had left a dark spot on her panties. He swallowed hard.

"Turn over," he said gruffly. "Now for your front."

This time he started with her abdomen, then up to her ribs, then up again to her wonderful breasts. He couldn't resist ducking his head down and taking one hard nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard for a moment before biting down gently. Hermione arched up, making a sound pleasure that went straight to his groin. Severus released the nipple, coating his hands again and rubbing her chest with the oil. Then up to her shoulders, then her neck, then a caress across her cheek.

"That was lovely, Severus," she said, her eyes opening slowly. They were lipid and dark, with her long lashes to frame them. Her mouth parted in a yawn. "Absolutely wonderful."

Severus smiled at her. "It isn't done yet," he told her. "There is still one part of you that I haven't touched." He met her eyes, then let his eyes trail down her chest and her belly until his gaze rested on her underwear. They were fancier than he had expected - lacy in the front, the white contrasting with her dark curls. They were more of a cream color along the crotch, which matched the bra that he had tossed onto the floor. Cream, except right at her center, where they had darkened from moisture.

When he looked at her face again, he knew that she had at least partially realized his intention. Her eyes were wide open now, the languid relaxation replaced with electricity. "Severus…" she said slowly.

He leaned over and kissed her, long and slow. Her chest pressed against his, her arms wound around her neck. Their tongues stroked each other, darting between lips and mouths. He pulled away, going to sit with his back to the headboard of his bed. "Do you trust me, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. There was a pit of excitement in her belly, a yearning for the carnal knowledge that his hands offered. There was little she wanted to think about besides his long fingers and his mouth and the clenching in her belly. "What – what do I do?"

Severus beckoned her closer. "Come here. Lean against me."

It was the work of a moment for her to do as he had asked. It was odd to sit against him in this way, as devoid of clothes as both of them were. She could feel the unnatural heat of the rod of his erection against her back. It felt thick and long and hard – Hermione clenched her muscles. There didn't seem to be enough room there for that –

"Relax," he murmured, his hair swinging forward and lightly brushing the side of her face. His hands ran up and down her sides. "Relax, my love."

Hermione leaned her head back, looking up at him. "Sorry. I got… nervous."

He leaned down and kissed her. "If you want to stop, just say so," he said seriously. "This is for your pleasure, Hermione, and if it's not doing what it is supposed to do, then I can stop."

Hermione stretched up her neck, kissing him for a long moment. "I trust you," she said. "I'm just- new to this is all."

A smug smile slid across his face. "But I'm not. Let me show you, Hermione…"

His hands had come up to play with her breasts, cupping both of them at once and tugging at her nipples. One moved now, sliding across her belly, one finger dipping into her belly button. "Close your eyes," he instructed. "Just feel."

She could feel the steady warmth of his palms. Dear God, his hands were so large. Her breasts fit so well into his hands, it was like they were made for each other. Each time he tugged at her nipple or gently squeezed it in between his thumb or forefinger, he drew a small sound from her and a twinge from that place deep inside of her that he seemed to know how to speak to so well.

Hermione could feel the hand that was on the tiny swell of her lower belly suddenly go lower, cup her mound over her panties. Oh, oh his hands were so large – oh, he was pressing down in a way that felt so, so good. Rubbing up and down, and each time he came up he brushed against that spot that felt so electric, the spot that sent a pulse of sensation to her core.

"Does this feel good?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Talk to me, Hermione. Does _this_ feel good? What about _this_?"

"Oh- yes – yes –it feels good," Hermione said, her voice breathy. "Oh – that feels good!"

She could hear the smile in his voice. His hand moved up, but before she could protest it was down again, but this time his hand was cupping her with no fabric in the way. "What about this, Hermione?"

Two fingers found the source of her wetness and trailed it up, brushing against her clitoris. "Yes," she said, her hands clenching at the sheets at her side.

"You're so wet for me, Hermione," he said, his voice low and coaxing. "You enjoyed your massage."

She didn't know which sensation to concentrate on, the way he was playing with her breasts or the way that he was stroking her folds. "Severus – oh, Severus, it's – oh!"

"I love your little sounds," he told her, pressing his thumb against the center of her pleasure. He slowly slid one finger inside of her as she keened. "So hot, so wet, so tight… you don't know how beautiful you look right now, my dear." Slowly he pumped one finger in and out.

"Do you think you could handle two fingers right now?" he asked. "How does this feel?"

Hermione gasped as he pinched her nipple. "I feel so full," she said. "But – I need more- " She could feel it rising like waves, rising high and flowing over her and receding again before crashing on the shore. She could feel her orgasm building, higher and higher, his fingers coaxing her to her peak.

Severus kissed the side of her neck, sucking hard. "Let's see," he said.

She was so tight around his one finger, but his fingers were slim other than at the knuckles. Carefully, bringing his other hand down to stroke her clit and distract her, Severus fit another finger inside, thrusting into her gently. "Look at that, darling," he told her. "You're so wet for me…"

He curled his fingers up, drawing a long moan from her. "Almost there?" he asked.

"Yes – oh – yes, please, Severus, please, just – there!" Her face and chest were flushed, her nipples hard. She arched against the hand in her panties, breathing hard, moving her hips in time with his hand. His cock was rock hard, aching, wishing it was inside of her warm tightness and not his fingers.

When Hermione came, clenching down on his fingers and shuddering in his arms, he did too, unable or unwilling to keep control at the sight of the woman he loved coming apart in his arms. She had thrown her head back, turning so that she could kiss his neck, sucking hard as her body reached its peak and slowly came down. Still, Severus kept the presence of mind to keep moving his hand, elongating the aftershocks even as he rocked against her body.

She shuddered again, then brought a hand to his wrist. "I – that's good- "

He withdrew his fingers, then his hand from her underwear. His hand was slick with his juices – he could smell the scent of her, and it smelled so good. He hesitated, wanting to bring his hand to his mouth and taste her. But he could feel his own semen wet against his front and her back, so he grabbed his wand and cleaned both of them off with a quick spell.

Hermione had collapsed against him, her legs still spread open in front of her. The flush was receding from her chest, but there was still a dew of sweat on her forehead.

"You're beautiful," he told her. "You look beautiful when you come."

Hermione twisted in his arms to look up at him. "Thank you, Severus," she said, pulling him down for a deep kiss. The kiss was slow, sleepy, and sweet. "Thank you," she whispered again as she pulled away.

Severus moved down on the bed, laying down against the pillows and drawing her with him. "Happy Birthday," he wished her. "How do you feel?"

Her eyes shone with happiness. "Like I didn't know I could feel that good," she admitted. "For some reason, it just isn't quite the same as doing it yourself. It's never – it's never been that big."

Severus chuckled, very visibly pleased with himself. "Wait until you experience multiple orgasms. There are some blessings given exclusively to womankind after all."

The expression on her face made him laugh outright. "I think I might die if I put my body through more than one of those at a time… but it would be a good death." She shivered, and he ran his hands up and down her arms.

"You're cold," he remarked. "Get under the covers with me. Can you stay?"

Hermione crawled under the covers, curling up next to him. "It's a Thursday… but yes. With a Time-Turner, so much is possible."

Severus sighed. "I get worried about you using that so much."

"I won't be using it forever," Hermione promised, kissing his chest. "But if I didn't use it now I'd get too tired to do everything I need to do otherwise."

Something in his heart ached when she said that. Oh, how he just wanted her to be safe and happy and free from worry. Free from stress. "One day," he whispered, kissing the top of her forehead. "One day you won't have to use it and you won't be so tired."

She reached up and kissed him long and slow. "One day you won't be either," she whispered back. "I love you, Severus Snape."

Severus cupped her face. "You are my purpose now."

Hermione frowned at him. "You're supposed to say 'I love you too, Hermione.'"

He tilted his head to look at her. "I did."

They stayed like that for a moment, looking into the other's eyes. The room was darkened now, with the fire burned down to the embers. They had a safety of a kind, there in the bed, under the covers, their naked legs intertwined. It seemed too strange to him that Hermione was now in the life he had led for the last twenty years, that life where everything seemed normal and safe until the moments when it wasn't. Here, in his bed, with Hermione, Severus could almost forget the Dark Mark on his arm, that he was beholden to two masters, that there was a war on the horizon.

But at the same time, when he looked at the slope of her nose and the shape of her mouth and into her large, intelligent eyes, he remembered it all. He remembered it because this woman in his arms was the reason he was confronting all of the awfulness with the cunning of a Slytherin instead of running headfirst into a suicide mission like a Gryffindor.

Hermione finally broke the silence. "I know. You don't have to say it every time, but sometimes, please?"

Severus pulled her back down to his chest. "I adore you."

He felt the warm breath of her sigh across his chest. "Try again, Severus."

"You are everything to me."

"I can tell you're smiling," Hermione warned him. "But I'm liking all the compliments."

Severus let out a low, sleepy chuckle. "Go to sleep, Hermione." With a wave of his hand, he extinguished all the lights in the room, sending them into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 54. 
> 
> Next chapter will be up on Saturday, as usual! I hope you enjoyed - let me know with a comment! That was a fun chapter to write - I should try out some more smutty one shots ;) Speaking of oneshots, I've published a new short story! Part One is up now, and Part Two will be up later this week!


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning and happy Saturday!
> 
> This chapter I sent to my beta a little late, so any mistakes are entirely my own fault. Happy reading!

**_Chapter 55_ **

Hermione left the warmth of Severus' bed before the light of the morning broke upon the horizon. Severus had woken her with a brief closed mouth kiss, even surlier in the morning than he would have been otherwise. Hermione sighed, relishing the feeling of bare skin upon bare skin, then pushed back the covers and stepped onto the cold flagstones.

"You need to get a rug," she told him, shivering as she gathered her clothes.

He had flung an arm over his eyes as she lit her wand to see what she was doing. He didn't move it as he spoke. "I do have a rug. It's on my side of the bed." It was said acerbically, as that was Severus's way. Another woman it might have fazed, but all Hermione did was smile fondly at the man in front of her.

Hermione slipped her robe over her casual clothes, then crawled back up onto the bed to kiss his mouth. "I'll see you later, love," she told him. "Enjoy a lie-in before breakfast."

He grumbled something at her, and quiet as a secret Hermione left his rooms and started making her way up to Gryffindor Tower.

Once she was out of the dungeons, Hermione didn't bother to hide herself. It was early, yes, but if anyone spotted her, she had emerged close to the Library and was talking that familiar path back to her rooms. It was an alibi, of sorts. She had been studying all night, and that was why she was wearing yesterday's clothes and her hair was in a dreadful state.

Still, no one but the pearly ghosts were in the halls, some nodding to her as she passed. She nodded back, unable to keep a small smile off her face.

How long had she imagined those strong hands and delicate fingers of her Potions Master doing  _ things _ to her? How many times had she watched him prepare potions, or wave his hands around while talking, and felt a low burn in her belly? Now she knew what her body had been telling her all along – this feeling was the feeling those hands could give her. Her body felt relaxed and her mind was clear and her spirits high. When she walked she could feel ghosts of what his hands had done to her the night before, pleasant and heavy.

"You look like the cat who got the cream," said a familiar voice from behind her. "Wotcher, Hermione."

Hermione had to force her heart to slow. "You scared the shite out of me, Tonks," she said, resting a hand over her chest. "Sweet Merlin! Out of anyone, you should know not to jump out at me!" Still, she said it with a laugh and hugged her friend. "Good to see you."

"If you didn't get Dumbledore to get the Ministry to assign me to Hogwarts duty with the intention of actually seeing me once in a while, I don't know why you did it," Tonks said, sighing. "It certainly isn't anything too exciting. Sneaking up on you is the most fun I've had in a bloody long while."

Tonks laughed at the face Hermione pulled. "What are you doing walking around at four in the morning?"

"I spent the night studying in the library," Hermione lied, her mouth stretching into a yawn. "I didn't keep track of the time-"

"Bullshit," Tonks said. "You've got sex hair, two hickeys on your neck, and I haven't seen you this relaxed in ages. You were visiting your lover boy. And probably having birthday sex, you lucky witch."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Tonks. "So much studying. The library was quite captivating, so late at night – and you've got hickeys of your own Miss Sanctimonious so there!" But despite the small red marks on Tonk's neck, something wasn't quite right. Her nose was a bit longer and wider than she normally kept it, and her hair was light brown instead of a fun shade of pink or blue. Hermione had attributed it to guard duty, but perhaps that wasn't the case.

Tonks grinned down at her halfheartedly. "The difference is I'm not trying to hide mine."

"So Remus has come around then?" Hermione offered, tilting her head.

She was met with a shrug. "Kind of. During the full moon he gets a little more … uninhibited? It's nothing really noticeable really. Except his senses are a little better and he's more sensitive to smells especially and he makes some decisions he wouldn't have otherwise. We're not together, it was just a one-time thing. Successful mission, he was home for a couple days before going back out to live with Greyback's werewolves… I'm trying not to make too much out of it, Hermione, I really am."

Suddenly, Hermione felt guilty for the love bites on her neck. "I'm sorry, Tonks," she said awkwardly. "He'll figure it out. It's war time, and that has a habit of making people sort out their priorities."

They continued walking through the quiet halls. "Whatever you say, Hermione," Tonks said, sighing again. Her hair hadn't changed from its mousy brown color. "What's the latest on our little task?"

Hermione glanced around, taking note of the portraits. Three were sleeping, and there were no ghosts around. "Not good," she admitted. "No new leads. We're looking for the diadem, the snake is out of our reach, and the cup is nowhere."  _ And I have no idea how to get that Horcrux out of Harry's head. _

Tonks bit her lip. "About that… I wanted you to ask Dumbledore about something. You see, after Bellatrix died, her possessions were supposed to go to her next of kin. But, of course, with the Ministry in the state it's in, nothing's happening. Gringotts won't move to pass on her possessions until the Ministry says. And there's two problems. "

"Oh?"

Tonks lengthened her hair so that she could tug on it. "I wanted to talk to Kingsley Shacklebolt before mentioning it to you, Hermione. You see, my dear auntie was still a convicted felon. So, technically, her account at Gringotts was frozen. But it was only frozen part way – no one could take things out, but people could still put things in. And since she inherited the biggest and safest Black vault with the death of Regulus-"

"Stop there," Hermione told her. "We need to talk about this, but somewhere else. There's too many eyes and ears out here in the open." As she said the words, a ghost floated past, nodding a hello to both of them.

"Right," Tonks said. "Where?"

They weren't far from the seventh floor- silently, Tonks and Hermione made their way to the Room of Requirement. Hermione walked them back and forth along the corridor three times – the final time, Tonks protesting, "We just walked past here, Hermione, what are you- Oh."

"I forgot where exactly this door was," Hermione said sheepishly. "Here it is!"

There was a nice cozy room, with two squashy armchairs and a fireplace. The two women settled themselves, and Hermione pulled a notebook out of her book bag. "Okay," Hermione said, settling back into her chair. "Let's go through this."

Tonks leaned forward. "So, like I said, Bellatrix is dead, and her Gringotts vault is up for grabs. It's a nice vault to – she inherited the Black vault after Regulus died, because she was the last Black in line since Sirius was blasted off the tree – and my mum too, come to think of it. But that leaves a couple options for who gets what's in her vault."

"How many claimants are there?" asked Hermione.

"Well, first, she was a convicted felon," said Tonks. "So the Ministry could opt to take what's in her vault. And depending which department claims it, then it could fall into the hands of Death Eaters. With the level of infiltration the Order suspects, any items of interest to us could go mysteriously missing."

Hermione frowned. "I don't like the sound of that," she admitted. "Who else?"

"Then there are her various relatives," Tonks said. "There's her sister, Narcissa. That's one option, and probably the best of the family claimants. Narcissa and Draco, since they are Blacks by blood, and since Draco is a male. And then there is my mum, but she's still been blasted off the family tree and officially disinherited. But then there's also Harry."

That was surprising. "Harry?" asked Hermione. "Because of Sirius?"

"Sirius was unofficially disinherited, but not officially," said Tonks. "He left all of his possessions to Harry. Harry's already had access to Sirius' vault, which was made easier because he was never technically convicted so the Ministry couldn't order Gringotts to hold off the inheritance with any sort of legal authority, although they tried. But since Sirius could have technically made a claim on the vault, had he been alive, Harry could also presumably make a claim in his name. However, Harry is only a Black by very distantly by blood, so his claim wouldn't be as strong as mine or Draco's."

Looking down at her notes, Hermione let a small hope spring up inside her chest. "And the last claimants?" she asked. "Who else would have a claim?'

Tonks ran a hand through her hair, a few streaks of pale pink following her fingers. She was starting to get excited. "The Longbottoms," she said, practically vibrating in her seat. "Neville and his grandmum. They are her most prominent victims. They could ask for reparations for what happened to Frank and Alice – emotional and physical damages, especially for Neville. And…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And then there's you," Tonks said quietly. "You've killed her, so you get the rights of the victor, so to speak. So there are a lot of people who have a claim to what is in those vaults. And a lot of those people are on our side."

_ More than you would think, _ Hermione thought. "What did Kingsley think?" she asked.

"That we need to start filing for rights," Tonks said. "I could file one separately to my mum, Neville and his grandmother would have to file together, you would file, Harry would file, and then if they cottoned on, Draco and Narcissa would each file separately."

Hermione rubbed her temples. "That's a lot of interested parties. Who has the best shot?"

Tonks shrugged. "It's a crapshoot. But Shacklebolt said we would have counter measures. So, if the Ministry tries to claim it as a convicted felon, you could argue that since you were technically the one who apprehended her, you should get the contents of her vault. They may demand a large portion of the gold, but you could keep a large number of precious artifacts. Or the Malfoys could claim that a lot of the artifacts are family heirlooms and should therefore go to them. Or the Longbottoms could claim a portion because they were the harmed parties, along with any other prominent victims of Bellatrix. It's really up in the air."

"I'm going to have to go to Dumbledore with this," Hermione said finally. "And figure out a plan of attack. You think there may be Horcrux in her vault?"

Tonks shrugged. "I know that the Dark Lord trusted her. Bill mentioned to me that there were a lot of really, really nasty dark objects in that vault. We could always find something useful." Her face was earnest, hopeful.

Hermione smiled at her. "Fantastic work, Tonks. Really bloody brilliant."

The Auror grinned, and stood up from her seat. "Thanks, Hermione. I have to get back to my rounds, but I'll see you soon?"

"Of course," she said. "You go on without me, I actually need to catch up on some homework."

With a wave of her hand and a change in the color of her hair, Tonks left the Room of Requirement. Hermione watched her go, eyes narrowed. If this went on much longer, she would talk to Remus. Sirius had died too young and with too little love in his life. If he had seen his best friend acting this way, he would have smacked him upside the head. Remus and Tonks both deserved love, and all the reasons that Remus had thrown out so far were shit.

When the door clicked shut behind Tonks, Hermione let out a long breath and stretched, arching her back and curling like a cat. Her body felt five kinds of relaxed, courtesy of Severus Snape.

Well, she was officially seventeen in the Wizarding World. Legally able to do all of the things she had been doing for a while now… Drink, Apparate, have sex…

Well, she supposed what had happened the night before was sex. Hermione had always kind of vaguely imagined jumping right into sex – virgin one moment and not the next, moving from kissing to touching and then to the act itself all in the course of a night. In retrospect, she felt a bit silly. It wasn't really like her and Severus to do things quickly.

Part of her was terrified that she had made the wrong decision the night before, to allow things to progress as far as they had. What if he left again, what if he once again chose to cut that precious bond that held them to each other? Another part felt like what had happened wasn't enough, that she wanted more, that she wanted to be greedy and take all of him into her. That part was also fed by fear; fear that he would leave her again with memories of nothing but his hand against her sex and then she would be left to crave and imagine what it would have been like to be with him in his entirety.

It seemed to her that the physical remains on her body were no more – her loins didn't feel so heavy and tender anymore, her muscles seemed to have let go of that languid pleasure – but still she could not move without the phantom memory sliding around her limbs and into her mind. She could still feel the ghosts of sparse chest hair against her back, she could still feel his fingers stroking her, she could still hear the way that he had groaned and the wetness that had spread against her back as he came. It had been something sweet and perfect tinged with a hint of the forbidden. Despite herself, in the midst of her orgasm Hermione had seen the image of his hands behind her clenched eyes, his hands as they chopped and stirred and brewed potions in front of the classroom.

She had forgotten about it as soon as she had come down from the absolute high of clenching muscles and shuddering breaths, but now all the implications rained down upon her. Would she be able to sit in his classroom and watch him gesticulate without giving a sign that she had once felt those fingers deep within her? Should she feel guilty for having sex with her professor? Would that even count as sex?

Well, she had come and he had come as well, so that was that, she decided. And it wasn't as if her grades in all her classes weren't unfair already, as she had several years of experience and age over her classmates. That was nothing to feel too awful about, because if she was going to start feeling guilty about the one she might as well start about them all.

With a sigh, Hermione stretched again and began to braid her hair. All she wanted was for everything to turn out okay. All she wanted was for this war to be over so that she could worry about her relationship with her lover without having to factor a Dark Lord and dozens of Death Eaters into the equation.

A clock in the corner of the room chimed gently, letting her know it was almost breakfast time. Hermione sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose before lithely stretching up out of her chair and going to the mirror kindly provided for her by the room. She didn't really need it by now- the Glamours she used were second nature at this point – but something felt different about her appearance this morning. It almost felt like if someone saw her, they would immediately know that she had been up to something she probably shouldn't have been with her Potions professor the night before.

Hermione pressed the wand to her face, murmuring the charms and watching intently as her face rounded slightly with youth and the red marks on her neck disappeared. She wasn't getting wrinkles, not yet, but there were a few signs of tension in her face that melted away with the spells. She applied a healthy glow to her skin – she hadn't been outside other than walking to Herbology in far too long. There was a half-thought wish in her head that had something to do with Severus and taking walks around the lake.

Appearance managed, Hermione stepped back from the mirror and made her way out of the room, off to begin her day.

* * *

A day later, Dumbledore's office held Hermione, Severus, Dumbledore, and, to Hermione's surprise, Kingsley. Hermione's eyebrows raised as she walked into the room. "Are we doing this now, then?" she asked Dumbledore, taking a comfy armchair. "I thought you were completely opposed to the idea. Hullo, Kingsley." She offered a nod to Severus, but said nothing.

Kingsley, unruffled as ever, looked at Hermione. "I thought you were behind this in some way."

Severus gave the man a tight, humorless smile. "Then you would be right. She's the one who suggested you."

"But I am the one who confirmed it," Dumbledore cut in. "I thought this would be the right time. I've been filling in Mr. Shacklebolt here on the current situation with the Order."

Hermione glanced sidelong at Severus, and then at Kingsley. "Forgive me, Albus, but if you had been filling him in properly, I doubt he'd be sitting here as docile as a lamb." At Kingsley's look, Hermione shrugged. "Sorry, Kinglsey, but it's true. A lot has been kept from the Order, even the Inner Circle."

"That you apparently know about?" Kingsley asked, his voice low and mild. Hermione wasn't fooled – she saw the furrow in his brow.

Severus stretched his legs in front of him, drawing everyone's attention with his movement. "And that she wants you to know about too. Miss Granger and I are both of the opinion that this level of secrecy is not in the best interest of the Order.

"Some secrecy is necessary, of course," cut in Dumbledore, his tone still light as ever. "For a reasonable level of protection."

"Reasonable being the key word," Hermione said, her tone equally airy. "Let's all get up to speed."

She sat quietly as Dumbledore went through the minute details of the running of the Order, most of which Kingsley already knew. She could see Kingsley's brow furrowing deeper as he looked over the reports that Dumbledore passed him detailing resources, manpower, spies, and informants. At long last, he leaned back in his chair.

"If I thought we had a thousand to one chance before, now I think it's more like a million to one," he said wearily. "Please tell me that is all the bad news there is."

Hermione met Dumbledore's eyes. "Release me from my oath," she said. "Please."

Dumbledore sighed. "I don't think this is necessary-"

"Release me." Her eyes were fire, and his were ice.

"Not with Severus here." He replied.

Hermione scoffed. "Too late. He already knows."

"That was a foolish decision," Dumbledore spat. "It is dangerous to put too much information in a basket that dangles on the arm of Lord-"

"Albus, I'll leave," Severus said, a cutting edge in his voice. "If it would make you feel better –"

Hermione looked at her lover, who was half out of his chair. "Sit  _ down _ ," she ordered him, a flush rising high in her cheeks. "You need to trust him," she told Dumbledore, voice low and dangerous. "You too, Kingsley. He's not just a man you can push and push and push to do terrible things, he's not something you can use and take advantage of and toss away, he is a  _ human being _ and you are going to treat him as such. Starting now. You are going to treat this man like a human being. He is risking his life for you, and so you are going to trust him. It's as simple as that. You trust him, or I will make you wish you had." Her eyes locked with Dumbledore's. There was a kind of power in the way she was sitting, back straight but her body relaxed, voice measured but eyes furious. A woman of contradictions, always, never.

There was stunned silence in the room for a long moment. Severus stayed posed above his chair, looking at Hermione with an expressionless face. Behind his eyes he was marveling at her contained fury, something he was sure that Dumbledore was seeing as well. He wasn't sure about Kingsley – the man knew Hermione, but not well.

At last, he settled back into his seat, crossing his legs. "The lady has spoken," Severus said finally. "Albus?"

The Headmaster and the woman in front of him remained still and quiet. With a small start, Severus realized that one of them was reading the other.  _ Legilimency. _ He glanced over at Kingsley, who looked unruffled.  _ He would make a bloody good leader for this ragtag group of overly excitable idiots. _

Severus cleared his throat, and the two broke eye contact.

"Your views are quite strong, Miss Granger," said Albus with a sigh. "I hope you understand I am only trying to keep our world safe."

Hermione also sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I am too."

"You are young," Dumbledore said. There was a strange sadness in his tone, and he rubbed his burnt hand with a touch that lingered with regret. "But I am old. You are released from your vow."

Hermione breathed out as she felt the magic swirl around her. "Thank you."

The discussion moved to Horcruxes, but Severus stayed silent. He was afraid that if he spoke, his voice would crack with all the love he felt for the woman in front of him.

* * *

"When will the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army be, Harry?" Ron's words were spoken over a game of Wizard's Chess, barely audible over the crackle of the fireplace. Hermione's head jerked up from where she was curled up reading on the couch.

"Shite!" she said. "I had completely forgotten. We need to get that started up again, Harry!"

Harry scowled at Ron over the chess board. "You did that on purpose," he said accusingly.

Ron shrugged, a look of complete innocence on his face. "Did what?'

Harry's scowl turned blacker. "We don't need the DA anymore,  _ like I already told you _ , Ron."

"Yes, we do need the DA," Hermione said, setting down her book. "Of course we need it!" She saw exactly what had happened – Ron had already asked Harry about this, been shot down, and had broached it again in front of her for backup.  _ Just as if I was mum, _ she thought with exasperation.

Harry pushed his king to the side to avoid an attack from Ron's bishop. "We have a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year. What's the need?"

Hermione took a steadying breath, and set her textbook down next to her. "You need the DA, Harry. They don't need you, you need them."

That made both Ron and Harry look at her. Ron immediately began to sputter, "What are you talking about! Of course they need Harry-"

But Harry met Hermione's eyes. "You're right – they don't need me. But I don't see how I need them –"

"This isn't a fight you win alone, Harry," Hermione said gently. She settled down into a cross-legged seat next to him, putting a hand on his knee and making eye contact. "You need friends and you need followers and you need allies. That's where the DA comes in. These are students who trust you and will follow you. They are your support system here in Hogwarts. The Order is your support system everywhere else, but the DA are the people you count on in here."

There was a moment when Hermione thought he might rebel against it, but to her surprise he sighed and straightened his shoulders.

"What do I have left to teach them?" asked Harry. "We don't have a unifying cause anymore."

Ron shook his head. "That's where you're wrong, mate. Everyone hates Snape."

Hermione winced internally. "Let's not unite around a hatred of Snape," she hedged. "We can use it as a study group."

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Fine," he said. "But you're helping me with the lesson plans again, Hermione. And you too, Ron. You can work on strategy stuff, because you're good at it." Harry ruefully gestured to the chessboard. "You've got me beat."

Hermione tapped a finger against her lips, thinking. "That's… a brilliant idea, Harry. There isn't any definite evidence yet, but there are rumors that Hogwarts might come under fire sometime in the near future. We should have a plan for how the DA would best be used in that scenario. I don't know if the Order would want them to fight, but they could be useful in other ways." That was a lie – there was definitely evidence that the Dark Lord wanted to take over Hogwarts. But they didn't need to know that, not just yet.

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! They could get younger students out and they could alert Order members, or - or , they could guard important things away from the real fighting, or hell, Hermione, we could fight ourselves, you know we could."

Hermione smiled at him. "Keep on thinking, Ron," she told him. "We can find a way for the DA to be useful."

"We could even have some Order members come in and give some talks," added Ron. "So they could be useful to us. Lupin would be fantastic, and Moody – he would scare the shit out of the ones who hadn't had him yet If they're all patrolling we can sneak them into the Room of Requirement."

Harry fiddled with a chess piece. "Yeah. That way I don't have to teach everything."

As the two boys started to plan, Hermione settled back on the couch with her book, leaving them to it. She listened with half an ear to the conversation, paying more attention to her book.

Yet another book on souls and soul magic. This one was lighter reading than some of the other books she had gotten from Borgin and Burkes. This one was talking about the soul's connection to the body, what kept inside a person's skin.

_ Souls are not unique to humans, but human souls are unique in that they are not solely connected to the corporeal form, but to the essence of the human themselves. Wizarding souls have the added connection of magic, which is the reason that we have ghosts. Wizarding and human souls are connected to the world of the living through three sources – the living, breathing body, the emotional connection to people or objects in the world of the living, and the desire to stay. _

_ Muggles can, contrary to popular opinion, stay in the realm of the living after death if and even if they have sufficient emotional connection and desire to stay, two factors which are typically intertwined. For example, a mother who dies and goes beyond does not have insufficient emotional attachment to her children, but perhaps insufficient desire to stay, since they recognize their time is over. But a Muggle who dies before their time and does not realize they are dead, and has a sufficient emotional connection to a place or a person, can haunt that place or person specifically. Their soul is tied to the living realm through attachment to a living object. They are not physical beings, like ghosts, and often cannot cause much other than minor nuisance in the world of the living. _

_ For Wizards, however, there are more options for staying in the realm of the living after death. The most common is the practice of becoming a ghost. A ghost can move on at any time, but they cannot come back to the living once they have left. Many consider this choice a cowardly one, made out of fear of the unknown. It is interesting, however, that many who were historians in life choose to become ghosts in order to inform the people of the future. _

_ There is one other method, one that I will say only this about: to create a Horcrux requires the death of another soul to split the soul of the murderer. It is a murder characterized by a soul deciding its value is greater than the value of another soul. All souls are equal, and the pursuit of eternal life is a crime against nature. _

Hermione shut the book in disgust.  _ That was useless _ .

All of these books only said one or two things about Horcruxes and many, many things about the nature of the soul. By this time Hermione reckoned she could be a soul expert.

_ The only place in the UK whose books I haven't looked at yet is the Department of Mysteries, _ she thought grumpily.  _ And after the last time I was there I wouldn’t be surprised if they wouldn't let me back. _

_ But maybe I'll stumble across something. Maybe. _

* * *

The next morning, as Hermione poured a mug of coffee for herself in the Great Hall, a ratty owl she recognized as belonging to the Owlery spiraled down and landed in the pancakes. Hermione sighed, untied the letter, and fed the bird a piece of bacon.

"You had a two minute flight, don't act like you're all exhausted," she told the owl. "That's all you get since I know the house elves will be putting out food for you in twenty minutes."

The bird hooted at her softly, and then flew away, his flapping wings hurling droplets of maple syrup down on a group of Hufflepuff first years.

Shaking her head, Hermione spelled the syrup off the note, and opened it.

_ Meeting tonight regarding your impending accident. 9. _

Glancing casually over at the Slytherin table, Hermione noticed Malfoy reading a similar note. She nibbled at her lip – finally. Something fun to plan.

The day zipped by faster than Hermione would have liked – she was able to read a few reports in her little room over lunch, but then it was back to Transfiguration and then Herbology and then Charms before suddenly it was dinner. After dinner, however, the time dragged. It made Hermione's skin crawl more than she liked to think about letting herself –  _ deliberately letting herself-  _ be attacked. Taken down. What if Draco wasn't on their side? What if he was going to take advantage of the situation to out Severus as a spy and return to the Dark Lord a hero?

She needed a contingency plan.

Something, anything that would ensure that her death would not result in Severus' death. Something that would hopefully be such a terrible consequence that there was no way she would end up dead in the first place.

So. What did Draco Malfoy care about? What made him tick? He had no lovers, no siblings. His father was in Azkaban. His mother, perhaps, but his mother had seemed cold and distant from what Hermione had heard about her. Who – or what – was important in Draco Malfoy's life?

It worried her that the only thing she could think of was Draco Malfoy.  _ It could be worse. He could not care if he lived or if he died. At least he has a preference. _

Something to tie her life to his, perhaps. That was worrying in and of itself – she didn't want her life tied to that of a Death Eater under the thumb of a deranged Dark Lord. One way, then. A one way insurance policy.

Hermione hadn't noticed how hard she was chewing her lip until she tasted the faint, metallic hint of blood. She didn't know how Severus would feel about her intent to threaten his godson, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. There were very few people Severus felt protective of, and she didn't want to discourage any sort of healthy attachment she saw him make.

She could use poison. A piece of jewelry or clothing that had a fast acting poison that would release if she died. It would be complicated, but she could create such a thing. It nagged at her though, that there was nothing that she could think of that really mattered to Draco Malfoy. What was there? There was always something, and maybe if she could get into his mind...

And then it clicked. The only thing that mattered to Draco Malfoy was the health and the safety of Draco Malfoy. Therefore, the only reasonable thing was to promise him something too good to resist. She needed to go after the Dark Mark, because it was with the Dark Mark that the Dark Lord could trace Malfoy wherever he went. It was with the Dark Mark that Lord Voldemort drained Draco's energy and his power. The Malfoys didn't like being on the wrong end of leashes and the Dark Mark was Draco Malfoy's leash.

That was it. Hermione sank back into her chair with a satisfied smile. She needed to figure out exactly how the Dark Mark worked and exactly how to remove it.

She hardly paid attention in class that day, thinking about the situation before her. There was much to be done, much to be researched. For a moment she worried that it would take time away from the research that she needed to do for the Horcrux in Harry's head, but she pushed that fear aside. She had a Time Turner, after all. If she didn't have the time to do something, who did?

Nine o'clock arrived just as Hermione was slipping into Professor Snape's office. Neither Draco nor Snape was there, so Hermione let herself into Severus' quarters. She found them there, as expected, sipping on tea and not talking. Gracefully Hermione walked over to them, sinking into her normal armchair. It wasn't facing the fire as it normally was, but turned around so that she could converse with Draco and Severus. Wordlessly, Severus handed her a cup of tea. She nodded her thanks.

"Now that we are all here," drawled Draco. "What exactly are we here for?' He easily played the part of the bored aristocrat, elegantly sprawled in his chair. Still, Hermione saw the signs that times were not as good as they once had been – his shirt had been tailored to Draco's more robust form of the year before, and he had not bothered – or perhaps, could not afford? – to get a new one of the same quality and the same good fit. His nails were in good condition, but not perfectly manicured as they had been the year before. This year there was the heavy signet ring of the Malfoy family weighing down his right hand, a ring that in all rights belonged to his father. A ring with that much history, with that much responsibility, should not have been on his hand this soon.

Hermione sipped her tea and took all of this in while Severus spoke. "We need to do something to keep you in the Dark Lord's good graces. We need to make a small attack on Hermione that will make the Dark Lord think that you are actually attempting to fulfil the task he has assigned you."

Draco sniffed. "I'm already ahead of you there, Uncle. I have made a discreet purchase or two that will help in that regard."

His book bag was on the floor beside him; with studied nonchalance he reached inside and withdrew two things. The first was a clear box, in which an opal necklace sparkled dangerously. The second was a small dark brown vial with a few drops of an indiscernible liquid.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I saw you looking to buy this necklace. You weren't half as discreet as you thought you were."

Draco appeared to remain calm, but there was a flush of pink at the tips of his ears. "Impossible."

"Borgin and Burkes over the summer," she said, wandlessly and wordlessly summoning the box with the necklace over to here. It hovered before her, allowing her to examine it. Through the glass of the box she saw Draco's eyes narrow at the display of magical control. "And Harry and Ron were with me. You can't use this or they'll immediately connect it back to you. Harry is suspicious enough of you already, Draco." Hermione took her wand and sent a few spells over the necklace. She raised her eyebrows. "This is dangerous."

"That's the point, Granger," drawled Draco.

Hermione gave Severus a long suffering look. "Not if you want me alive to help you get that Mark off of your arm without taking your arm with it."

Both of the men before her straightened at her words. Severus tensed almost imperceptibly, the thin line of his severe mouth warning her to be sure before making any promises. Draco, on the other hand, had a very visible change in form. There was a visible wanting in his face, a desire to be free that made his body tremble with emotion. His breathing came quicker and his hands clutched at the armrests of his chair.

"You can do that?" he demanded, voice sharp and tight. "There isn't a way."

Hermione smiled thinly. "I've been working on it. I have more than one idea of how to remove it, and if you want my help, you need me alive." She settled into her chair, sending the necklace back to the table. "So. Now are you ready to make some real plans?"

There was a tight attention in his face as Draco nodded. "This other one is poison," he said. "My mother helped me find an old woman who knew how to make it. She brewed it, and then we bought it."

"And your mother or one of your uncles promptly returned and killed her, no doubt," Severus said dourly. "Okay. So do you know an antidote?"

Draco shrugged. "Do you?'

"Shove a bezoar down their throat," Severus and Hermione said together. They exchanged a quick glance, Severus questioning and Hermione slightly embarrassed, and then looked at Draco again. The Slytherin was shaking his head.

"I'm never going to get used to the two of you being… similar," he muttered under his breath. "Next you're going to tell me that Weasley the Dark Lord's right hand man."

Severus chuckled. "That would be me, and believe me, I do not intend to give up that position any time soon," he said smoothly. "Give me the poison and I'll figure out an antidote." He held out a hand and twitched his fingers. With a scowl, Draco handed over the bottle. Something about it was forced – a Slytherin would never let himself be backed into a corner and forced to give up all of his plans and resources. Draco had something else up his sleeve.

"Now we figure out how you slip it to me," Hermione said, chewing on her lip. "Of course, you can't get caught, but your sneakiness needs to get back to the Dark Lord. Which means, of course, that it needs to be done either in front of Severus and/or in front of Slytherins who will carry the news back to their parents who will tell the Dark Lord. Who left in Slytherin has parents who aren't in Azkaban?"

Severus and Draco exchanged looks. "Few people after the fiasco that was last spring," muttered Draco.

Hermione turned her gaze to Severus, watching as he traced his lips with one finger. She swallowed hard, then looked in his eyes. His gaze crystalized incrementally, but his voice was steady when he spoke. "I think the question is, who in Ravenclaw has parents who are Imperioed?"

Hermione sank back in her chair, mind racing. "Oh, that's brilliant," she said. "Severus, when will you teach me all of your tricks? Or are you planning on just surprising me whenever you feel like it for the rest of your life?"

Her lover just scowled in her direction. "I have my secrets and you can pry them from my cold dead hands."

"It's brilliant," she said again. "We need to find one timid enough to not know what to do, so they tell their parent and hope that they will take care of it for them. A Ravenclaw would work best for this – they aren't like Gryffindors who want to save the world, they'll just take it to their parent and wash their hands of it. We just have to make sure Flitwick is out of the castle – that way they don't go to him. Or that it happens right before a break. What would be better, Severus?"

He thought for a moment, his body still as stone. "Let me see how long it takes to brew up an antidote to the poison," he said finally. "But I do think that it would be more dramatic if you missed a bit of school because of it – enough for rumors to spread and your illness to be noticed. The more noticeable, the better for Draco's chance of surviving the Dark Lord's wrath. And if we do it during term the Dark Lord either has to wait until Draco is on break to punish him, or go easy enough on him that his disappearance is not noticed."

Draco looked away, staring into the fire. She saw his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth. "How badly will he punish me?"

"Badly," Severus said, without a hint of pity in his voice. "But you'll survive. And if someone else screws up around the same time you do, make sure you're the first to be punished. Volunteer, submit. The Dark Lord likes to start out slow and then get creative as he gets bored."

The group was silent for a long moment, each sitting with their own thoughts. Finally, Draco was the one to break the silence. "So which Ravenclaw do we want to use?"

Severus gestured toward Hermione. "You have someone in mind, I know you do."

"Of course I do," Hermione said. "Marietta Edgecombe. She's already proven that she goes to her mother before Flitwick with problems, she's sharp enough to notice what's going on, she's cowardly enough not to tell her friends, she hates me enough to not try to stop it, and she's stupid enough that you can find some reason to give her detention. Also, her mother's been under the Imperius Curse for months now. She's a Floo Network Regulator for London, she was one of the first waves to go down."

"Don't you know bloody everything," Draco muttered.

"Including that you have another plan you haven't said anything about," Hermione said sweetly. "What is your third option?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Draco sneered. "You don't get all of my secrets, Granger."

Severus held a hand up as Hermione opened her mouth. "You can keep secrets all you like, Draco, as long as you do not harm her."

Raising his pale eyebrows, Draco looked first at Severus, then at Hermione, and back again. "One would almost think you cared about her, Uncle Severus." His voice was distinctly mocking. "You seem awfully concerned that she gets out of this mess in one piece, and I can't say that you care the same for me, the boy you've known since he was born."

As much as Hermione ached to answer, she knew this was something her lover had to do alone. She didn't look at him, but kept her eyes focused on Draco as Severus spoke.

"You have no idea how dangerous my role is, Draco," he said after a moment. "Dumbledore is ill. If the Order succeeds, Hermione Granger is the ticket to freedom for both of us. Without her, we will be gladly thrown in Azkaban and not a word will be said in our defense."

Solemnly, Hermione nodded. "It's true," she said. "I am Harry Potter's friend, I go about as high as one can go in something as unstructured as the Order, I am working on a way to remove the Dark Mark. Kill me if you please, but know that you are hurting yourself and your godfather as you do so."

Draco scowled at them for a long moment. "It's not finalized. I'll tell you when I have something concrete."

"I'll take that for now," Severus said. "But back to the problem at hand. Should I put you all in detention?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "If it comes to that. I do have a record to maintain, Severus."

"Now that sounds like the insufferable Granger I know," Draco muttered under his breath. "There are more important things than discipline records, Granger."

She directed a glare his way. "And according to the rest of the school I'm a hopeless swot and if I get a detention it looks suspicious."

"But when are all three of you in the same space?" snapped Severus. "Edgecombe's a year ahead, you're all three in different houses, and it's not like Draco can dip into the girl's room with you."

Hermione sighed. "So either the Great Hall or the corridors or the library. What exactly does this poison do and how does it work?"

"Library would be best," Draco said. "She's a Ravenclaw, she's serious about studying and she does it alone. Now the poison needs to be ingested – do you have drinks with you in the library, Granger?"

Severus shook his head. "She chews her quills, use that. Dip her quills in the poison while Edgecombe is watching. What did the old witch say the potion did?"

Draco shrugged, and then directed a scowl at Severus. "I didn't exactly ask, did I? As long as it kills, it was good."

"Then I'll be poisoning some Nifflers, then," Severus said, a note of disgust in his voice. "We'll finish this planning when I actually know what will happen then. I'll plan on being in the library to put a Confundus Charm on Miss Edgecombe."

There was a silence. "You are dismissed, Draco," Severus said after a moment. "Report to my office next Monday evening. We can talk then."

Gracefully Draco stood and swept his upper body down in a mocking bow. "Goodnight, Uncle." Without a word to Hermione, he left his godfather's chambers. When his footsteps were no more, Severus sighed and pointed his wand at the seat where Draco had been sitting. A soft blue light revealed two spots of red, which Severus swiftly charmed away. He pointed his wand at other parts of the room, presumably at other places the boy had touched, and removed one more listening spell.

"He doesn't think he can outsmart you, does he?" asked Hermione wryly.

Severus stood, stretching. "It's part of the game," he said offhandedly. "If he hadn't planted any listening spells I might have even been insulted."

Following his lead, Hermione gave a feline stretch and open mouthed yawn as she rose. "Slytherins. I'll never quite understand your lot, Severus."

Her lover approached her, a rare smile on his face. "We've found something that Hermione Granger cannot understand! Send for the Prophet."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him, folding her arms across her chest. "Hardy-har-har," she said, affecting grumpiness. "There has to be something you don't understand."

The expression on his face turned tender. Slowly, he stretched out a hand and tucked a curl behind her ear. "How a woman like you can love a miserable sod like me."

His hand was warm as it lingered on the side of her face. Hermione reached up and took it, turning it over so she could kiss his palm. "With all my heart, Severus."

His other arm came behind her, pressing her body to his. Willingly Hermione stretched up and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly as he ducked his head to hers. They kissed languidly, enjoying the feeling of lips pressed against lips and tongue moving against tongue, of heartbeats echoing through chests, of soft, easy breathing.

When at last she pulled away, Severus looked down at her and spoke. "I have to meet with the Dark Lord tonight. Will you come and see me tomorrow?"

Hermione stretched up and kissed his collarbone. "Of course, Severus. Just let me know when."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 55. 
> 
> More planning - not as much fun time! You all were a bit shy about comments last chapter, which I admit I found a bit funny. Comment and kudos are always appreciated! 
> 
> I hope you all are staying safe - one of my dear friends just got the virus, which is terrifying. Thinking of all of you!


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Many thanks to my beta Sorasradust as per usual. This chapter also has some naughty bits at the end, so be forewarned!

**Chapter 56**

The rest of September fumbled on as the castle residents figured out new routines: new class schedules, Quidditch practice, clubs, friends. The weather held fair, with the bluster of true autumn held at bay by fierce sunshine and teasingly green grass. Students studied by the lake, shivering if they forgot their scarves, and tried in vain to get professors to teach classes outside.

The last week of September Harry finally held the first meeting of the DA. The first meeting was just the old hats first – Hermione and Harry had agreed upon this, albeit for different reasons. Harry wanted a smaller group to start with, Hermione wanted the old crew to feel valued and special. It was the same tactic Dumbledore used for the Order to create the Inner and Outer Circles, to increase loyalty and to keep potential moles at bay.

Once again they used the Room of Requirement, meticulously set up in the exact same fashion as the year before. At the first meeting, the fluffy purple pillows were used as seats, as Harry addressed the group.

"This year is going to be different," he said, his feet firmly planted on the floor and his green eyes serious. "Voldemort is back." Hermione noticed that his jaw tightened the slightest bit at the jumps and sounds from his audience. "Not that he wasn't back last year, but last year the Ministry was hiding it. He had to work in secrecy. But I'm sure all of you have seen the news recently – Magic and Muggle. Giants and Dementors and killing people in their homes – it's all happening, and it's all out in the open. He isn't hiding anything anymore. And so we need to be ready."

For a moment, Harry looked over at the crowd. Then, slightly sheepishly, he gestured toward Hermione and Ron. "I actually wasn’t going to start this up again, but these two convinced me," he said. "We need to know how to protect ourselves. Last year we had a bad DADA teacher, and this year we have… well, we have  _ Snape _ ." There were a few snickers in the crowd.

"He's almost worse than Umbridge," called out Dean Thomas. "He's not even prettier."

Hermione fought to keep her annoyance off of her face. "But he is teaching us," she reminded them. "We actually use wands in class."

Neville sighed dolefully. "But I can never actually use my wand in class," he said. "I can't make a damned thing come out of my wand with nonverbal spells."

"But that's why we're here, mate!" Ron said, some forced joviality in his voice. "To practice. And to learn the stuff that maybe Snape doesn't want us to know."

_ Please, _ Hermione thought.  _ He doesn't want you killed, Ron. He doesn't want anyone killed. Well, anyone on our side.  _ "We are here to practice and learn," Hermione interjected. "And to learn how to work together as units. We don't know what will happen in the near future, and we don't know how dangerous it's going to be." When she didn't get nods from her audience, she scowled at them. "Raise your hand if you're a Muggleborn."

At least a third of the room raised a hand. Hermione surveyed them, her classmates and friends. "Think for a moment," she said quietly. "How many of you are going to graduate this year? Next year? How many of you are going to leave Hogwarts for vacations? How many of your parents are still in the country? How many of you have younger siblings? The Dark Lord hates Muggles, that's not a lie. But his followers, they couldn't care less about Muggles. To them, Muggles are less than livestock, to be used and then nothing more. But Muggleborns…" Hermione let her voice trail off, shaking her head. "They  _ hate _ Muggleborns. We are the living proof that their ideology is flawed, especially when we perform better than their sons and daughters at magic, the thing that they are supposed to be the rightful heirs to. They don't like the Muggles, they'll kill them for sport for a few laughs, but when they find us Muggleborns, it's a different story. We need to know how to protect ourselves."

The crowd was sober. A few people looked scared, and others – the purebloods – looked guilty. Harry pulled Hermione close to him, looping an arm around her shoulders. "Hermione's right," he told the DA. "She's right. When we-" he motioned to the others who had been at the Ministry with him – "were at the Department of Mysteries, they went after Hermione first. They prattled on about not wanting to spill pure blood, but they were perfectly fine with hurting Hermione. Same in the graveyard – they hated her on the basis of nothing but her parentage."

_ That… and a few other things, _ Hermione amended in her head. "It's everyone's responsibility to know how to protect ourselves," she told the crowd quietly. "For those of you who are Muggleborn, it's especially important. For those of you who aren't Muggleborn, you need to start thinking about how much you'd risk to protect your Muggleborn friends."

"And speaking of protecting," Ron said, walking to the front to join Harry and Hermione, "Umbridge got to our group last year through one person. You all saw what happened to her."

There were a few uncomfortable shuffles. They were all picturing Marietta's face, either the way it looked last year, covered in angry boils, or the way it currently looked, still covered in angry boils.

"We aren't operating in as much secrecy this year," Harry hastened to add. "But use common sense when talking about the DA."

"We'll sign a new contract at the next meeting," Hermione said, giving the group a sharp smile that made a few people squirm uncomfortably. "But there is a question still to be answered – what level of openness do we want to have as an organization this year?"

"Which is why we'd like to put something to a vote," Harry added. "We'd like to put the DA forth as an official club this year. Open to everyone – that way the first years can join, and people who we didn't hear about last year. But we also wanted to keep meeting, just the original group. At open meetings we can go over stuff as usual, and for closed meetings, we can maybe learn some special things. I know a few Aurors who said they'd be happy to come by and show us some more advanced stuff. What say all of you?"

The measure to open the club up to the rest of the school was passed by a wide margin. When the meeting started reviewing shield spells in earnest, Hermione sat back and smiled. Her work there was done – the DA would be loyal to Harry, they would feel special because they were the ones included in the closed meetings, and the club would grow.

* * *

There were two things that were troubling Hermione throughout the rest of the month. The first was Kingsley – his slow takeover of the Order was not going quite as smoothly as she and Severus had hoped. He was a busy man, with a full-time, important job at the Ministry. He simply didn't have the time to sit down and go over piles of documents the way Dumbledore always had, which was frustrating for all the parties involved. The second was Severus himself – or rather, a lack of Severus.

The Dark Lord had been possessive of his servant of late. Because Draco couldn't leave the school, he frequently requested Severus' presence to give a report on Draco's progress, and then kept him for the rest of the night, until early in the morning.

It wasn't that Hermione wasn't busy – no, it wasn't as if she was moping around in his rooms, waiting for him, not in the slightest. She was busy trying to make sure Kingsley's transition was running along, that reports that Severus no longer had time to do were being managed, that Harry and Ron's grades stayed as high as possible, and that the hunt for the Horcruxes continued. If there was a word to describe Hermione, it was certainly busy.

But it made her weary and sad to see Severus for small snippets of time, just the few minutes it took to see the weariness in his own eyes, the lines that were growing deeper and deeper in his face, the gauntness that began haunting his cheeks. There was so much that he was enduring and it often felt like there was too little she could do to help.

"Just come here and sit with me," he would say, closing his eyes and beckoning to her. When she would come and sit on his lap, carefully tucking herself into the folds of his body, he would sigh and hold her close, with the kind of tenderness that she had once assumed he was not capable of. Then they would sit there, in front of the fire, and he would breathe deeply like he was trying to remember what she smelled like, or what air felt like in his lungs, or even just what it was to take a breath. With his eyes closed and his face as near to relaxed as it could be, Hermione saw the brush of his lashes against his cheek and the jump of his pulse in his neck. Those times were both strained and precious, soothing and unsatisfying. Because too soon, always too soon, Severus would sigh and Hermione would kiss his neck and they would share a kiss so tired it often missed its mark. Then Hermione would drag herself from Severus' warmth and into the cold of the corridors, to her own cool bed.

To her disappointment, there had not been any repeats of Hermione's birthday. There simply wasn't time, or so it felt like. The days rushed by too frenzied to comprehend until at last, they paused for those suspended moments of tired haze in Severus' arms, and then the haze would break again and time would speed up, rushing around her, drowning, her, spinning her around and around and around…

Dimly Hermione realized that her use of the Time-Turner was doing something – something she didn't understand, something she couldn't name, something she couldn't pin down. Sometimes it seemed that she was time's mistress, that it bent and flowed under her will like her own magic, fizzing and hot and twirling to her whim. And then there were days when the Time-Turner, almost like an extension of her body at this point, felt terribly foreign to her, a touch sinister, tempting and horrifying all at once. Then it felt like when she spun through time it was out of control, and each time she let go of the hourglass there was a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, a worry that she would be spat out in the wrong time or place, alienated from all she had ever known.

But then she would open her eyes and she was exactly where she had meant to be, not a second farther not a second less, and she could shake off that dim fear and go on with her day.  _ I'll stop using it soon, _ she thought.  _ As soon as I can. _

Not in the least of her worries was her appointment with poison – Severus had finally figured out what exactly Draco's mysterious potion did, and had then spent several more long hours in his lab brewing up an antidote. For that, she had had to spin them through time together, just so that he could carve out the time to work.

Severus had actually altered the original potion that Draco had given them, making it less potent and inserting an agent that would give him enough time to "create" an antidote and administer it to Hermione. Once that was done, they set a tentative poisoning date for the eighth of October, a Wednesday. Snape would assign a long and complicated homework assignment, giving ample reason for Marietta Edgecombe, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger all to be in the same section of the library at the same time. In class he would find fault with Marietta's performance, and order her to write an extra five inches on Inferi, using a book that Hermione would have conveniently already checked out from the library. Marietta would seek out Hermione in her normal study space in the library, and while Hermione fetched the book, Draco would poison her quills. And then… and then she would knowingly put them in her mouth, and put her life in the hands of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

On the evening of the seventh of October, Hermione skipped dinner and slipped into Severus' office and through to his chambers. Her lover was at dinner – appearances to keep up, after all – and his rooms were quiet. There were coals glowing lightly in the fireplace that she stoked into a quiet fire, out of a desire for warmth more than light. She could see piles of papers on Severus' desk, waiting to be graded.

"Well, I can do something for him," she murmured to herself. She wanted to spend time with her lover tonight, goddamn it. If something went wrong the next day… she wanted a night in Severus' bed. Already Hermione had told her friends she was feeling ill and was going right to bed, no dinner for her, thank you, and told Lavender and Parvati not to disturb her. Severus, however, she had given no warning. No, she had a plan.

It was habit, by now, to enchant a quill to mimic the handwriting of Professor Snape, to take the assignments from the top of the fourth year stack and dig into them, red ink flowing liberally. By now, considering the stress that he was under, Hermione had started leaving the easier essays for Severus to do. She could do the third and fourth years with no problems, even the fifth years if she thought back to her own essays that he had marked the year before.

As she graded, Hermione kept an eye on the clock. Dinner would last until eight, but Severus usually left around half-past seven, not one to stay much longer than it took for him to finish eating. Unless he was roped into conversation with Minerva or Dumbledore, he would make it back to his rooms at a quarter to eight. Time ticked by slowly, slowly, slowly.

At half-past seven, Hermione looked over the finished pile of fourth-year essays, then pushed back from the desk and stretched. Her back always got a little stiff when there was a bout of bad weather. Bad weather was one description for the state of the Hogwarts grounds earlier – flooded was another. From the early morning whips of rain had lashed the ground, churning the grass into mud and turning the usually green waters of the lake a foamy grey. But Severus' rooms were warm and the panes of the glass at the windows were thick. Despite the thick curtains covering the windows, Hermione could still hear the beating of the rain against the glass and the faint howl of the wind. Far away booms of thunder had vibrated in her bones at regular intervals as she had graded, and now she could see a few flashes of lightning at the crack in the curtains.

There were nervous flutters in her belly as she fiddled with the pearl at her neck. Was she really about to do this? Really? Her, Hermione Granger? Each time she thought about Severus coming home from dinner there was a swooping feeling in the pit of her belly, as if the floor was about to fall under her. In all honesty, it really did mirror the sensation she had felt her first year, trapped in the Devil's Snare, as she had relaxed her body and fallen through to the chamber below.

Firming her resolve, Hermione pointed her wand at the fire, silently ordering it to grow. Warmth spread across her face, and she smiled. Then, taking a breath, Hermione unzipped her jeans, shimmied them off her hips and folded them with nervous energy and banished them to the corner of the room. Her legs immediately prickled with gooseflesh. Next to go was her sweater, following the same fate as her jeans. Hermione stood shivering in front of the fire, mentally willing it to grow larger. The flames obliged her, and Hermione perched on the edge of the sofa in front of the fire.

When Severus walked through the door she would be waiting for him in just her bra and panties.  _ I don't think there's quite a clearer way to say, please touch me again like you did that time, please, Severus, _ Hermione thought, a red blush flooding her cheeks. Shifting on the couch, she laid down, stretching languidly as the warmth from the fire rolled over her.

_ Hmmm, how lovely _ , she thought, arching her back up.  _ How lovely _ .

She didn't mean to doze, but the warmth of the fire and the sleepiness from her recent hard work caught up with her, despite her anxious anticipation.

* * *

Much later than he thought he would, Severus entered his chambers, wearied to the bone. There had been an incident with three of his Slytherins and two Ravenclaws that had ended in boils, antlers, green skin, and a trip to the Hospital Wing. To his surprise his rooms were neither cold nor empty – no, there was a fire roaring in the fireplace, and there was a lovely back facing toward him, a back that was bare save for the slim straps of a bra and panties that really showed more than normal panties showed.

The weariness left him immediately for amazement and arousal. Severus could feel himself hardening in his pants, and he could not tear his eyes away from Hermione's back. The girl was sleeping, although not soundly, and he knew that the moment he made a noise she would awake. Her back was graceful and lovely, scarred, made golden brown by the fire, everything he had ever dreamed of. As silently as he could, Severus spelled his shoes away, spelled his robes away, and padded over to her side.

"Hermione," he said softly. "Wake up."

His voice brought her to life. With a quiet moan that drew more blood down to his cock, Hermione arched her back, stretching her arms over her head. Her brown eyes opened slowly, and a smile broke over her face. "Hello, love," she said quietly, voice husky from sleep. "I've been waiting for you."

"You didn't tell me you were here," he said, his own smile emerging to meet hers. She moved her legs, drawing them up, and he joined her on the couch. "I would have ignored all the morons who wanted my attention."

Hermione laughed low in her throat. "I was planning on surprising you," she told him. "I wanted to surprise you, but I fell asleep." There was a kind of shy embarrassment in her face that made Severus feel strangely soft in a way, protective and appreciative of her.

"That doesn't mean this wasn't a surprise," responded Severus. He caressed the smooth skin of her calf. "A beautiful woman waiting for me, mostly naked, is always quite the surprise." He was already reacting to her beauty, to the warm golden skin and the lacy panties and the swells of her breasts.

"But I had a lovely plan," Hermione said, a sheepish look on her face. "More than just lying in wait."

Up went Severus' eyebrows. "Oh? Well, far be it from me to interrupt your plans. Should I exit and come in again?" His tone was lightly teasing, something she hadn't heard from him in a while.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him and laughed. "No, no. I'll just have to adapt." With a grace that belied her sleepiness, Hermione rose up and swung a leg over Severus' hips, straddling him. Equally as deftly, she began to undo the buttons at his throat. She didn't know that he could see the flutter at her neck that showed her pulse, beating fast with excitement or anticipation.

"And what a wonderful adaptation this is," Severus murmured, bringing his hands to the trim waist in front of him. There was something wonderful about the world when it delivered pretty women into his lap, he decided, something wonderful despite all the darkness.

Soon Severus' chest was exposed, his shirt pushed down over his arms. Hermione leaned forward, pressing her chest to his, revelling in the feeling of his warm skin. She pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, sucking lightly, then gently biting down with her teeth, drawing a slight noise from Severus. She kissed her way up to his ear, nipping his earlobe and drawing her tongue over the shell of his ear. "The bedroom?"

"As you wish," he replied, lifting them both with ease. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, and continued to nibble on his neck as Severus carried them across the room. With a brusque command (it was quite thrilling to know that she was distracting him too much for him to use silent magic) the door to his room opened, and they were there.

Hermione wiggled down from her lover’s arms, focusing her attentions on his belt. As soon as she could, she pushed his pants down his hips. Then, Severus' surprise, she backed up.

As he watched, eyes hungry, she unclasped her bra, willing her hands to still. Hermione let her bra drop to the floor, relishing the intake of breath from her lover. She didn't miss the twitch in the hard shape in his underwear either – although that caused a flutter of nervousness in her belly. Slowly she turned around, hooking her thumbs in her panties, drawing them down over her bum and down her legs, keeping her legs straight.

Severus' eyes were fixed to her backside, to the flash of deep pink that appeared between her spread legs as she bent down.

"Come here," he ordered. His cock was getting painfully hard.

Hermione turned around, eyes mischievous. "Didn't I say I had a plan?" she asked teasingly.

"Then act on it, instead of just tempting me," he growled, snagging an arm around her waist and pulling her to him, eagerly bending down to finally put his mouth on hers. Hermione received the kiss with equal enthusiasm, winding her arms around his neck and matching his tongue with hers.

Severus lifted them onto the bed, immediately sliding Hermione under him, letting his lower body rest on hers and bracing his upper body with his arms. Hermione, for her part, lovingly caressed his back and sides, wound her hands through his hair, and kissed back just as eagerly.

After a few moments, however, she pulled away, lightly pushing on his shoulder to get him to turn over.

"Do you want to be on top?" asked Severus. "Was that your grand plan?"

"Wipe that smirk off your face," she said lightly. "No. I want to look at you. Lay back."

Eyebrows raised, Severus did as she asked, laying back against the pillows with uneasy grace. She could tell her scrutiny perplexed him. "Why?"

"Why do I want to look at you?" she asked lightly. "Because I like it."

He was certainly a sight – his hair was out of his face for once, and dim light highlighted the crags and furrows of his sharp face. His eyes were hooded, his nose harsh, his mouth surprisingly full. Severus had a long neck, surprisingly broad shoulders, and a leanly muscled, slim body. His skin was pale, marked with silvery scars in more places than she could count. His arms had slight bulges of muscle, but she knew exactly how strong they were.

She drew a finger from the notch at the base of his neck down his chest, noting the small brown nipples and the sparse black hair on his chest. Down the finger went, down his sternum, down his belly. She circled his naval, then traced the waistband of his boxers.

"Do you like these ones?" she asked.

Severus' brow furrowed. "Not particularly."

Wordlessly, windlessly, she Vanished them. Up bobbed Severus' cock, red and thick. It jutted out from a thick patch of wiry black hair, strangely intimidating. Veins stood out on the side of it, and the head bore a bead of liquid.

"You can do more than stare at it, you know," Severus said wryly. "You're blushing."

Hermione met his eyes, a laugh on her lips. "This is really the first – the first –"

"Cock," Severus supplied helpfully. "The first cock…" God, she was innocent. He could forget sometimes, when she straddled him, but when she looked at his cock in sudden apprehension it was impossible to forget that she was a virgin, that she had never even seen a man's cock before.

She glared at him. "The first  _ cock _ I've seen, you know."

Grandly, Severus gestured to his member. "Then, by all means, take your time." He, for one, was enjoying the chance to examine Hermione's lovely breasts.

Willing her hand not to tremble, Hermione reached out and touched the base of his cock, drawing her fingertip up the length of it. Severus sucked in a breath – the touch was gentle and barely there, but it was still one of the most erotic things he thought he had ever felt.

Gingerly Hermione wrapped her hand around it, clenching her inner muscles as her hand accessed the girth of his member. She knew it had to go there, she knew it must fit, but somehow that seemed a bit painful.  _ Well, at least that's for another day. _ The skin on his cock was smooth, warmer than the rest of his body.

Carefully she moved her hand up to the top, swiping her thumb over the bead of liquid at the tip. His cock jerked again, and she jumped.

"Don't be scared of it," Severus said quietly. "It won't bite."

Hermione could feel her cheeks flushing. "What do you like?"

Severus reached out, stroking her cheek and tucking a curl behind her ear. "What was your grand plan?"

"Touching you," Hermione said honestly. "I wanted to see you, wanted to touch you, make you feel as wonderful as you made me feel on my birthday." Almost absentmindedly, she was trailing her fingers up and down the length of his cock.

Severus leaned over and kissed her deeply, holding the back of her head in one large hand. When he pulled away, his eyes were dark and her mouth was still red and open. Wordlessly he grabbed his wand from the nightstand and tapped her palm. A glob of clear gel appeared there.

"Put your hand around me," he instructed, voice low. She did as he asked, and he wrapped his larger hand around her smaller one. He guided her in the motion and the pressure, then released her hand and let his head fall back, groaning with pleasure. It had been such a long time – such a long time – since anyone's hand but his own had touched his cock. This hand was small and smooth, free of calluses and scars.

Hermione watched her lover in fascination, watched as his muscles clenched and his face flushed. His breathing grew harder and groans escaped his mouth. Then, before she expected it, his cock jerked in her grasp and suddenly, both of them had ropes of sticky cum on them. Hermione resisted the urge to laugh – she wouldn't have liked it if he had laughed as she came – and watched him.

With a groan, he waved his hand and it all disappeared. "Come here," he said, pulling her down to lay next to him.

Hermione burrowed into his side, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. His member looked odd now, deflated, wrinkled and tired. His arms were strong around her, and she loved the feeling of his warm, human body against hers.

"That was interesting," she said, kissing the skin of his chest. "I've never seen you so… absorbed, before."

Severus chuckled. "That was the first time in a long time for me," he told her. "I wasn't expected to react quite like that either." He grew serious for a moment, kissing the top of her head. "It's been so long since someone has touched me with such – such tenderness, Hermione."

It brought tears to her eyes. Love for the man next to her rose up from her belly, tinged with sadness. Merlin, why had his life been so hard?

His mouth was on hers then, kissing her deeply. Then he was over her, his lower body pressed against hers. Hermione could feel his member stiffening again, but her mind was occupied by the kiss, his hands, his warmth. He nipped at her neck, caressed her waist, suckled at her breasts. It was hazy, it was terrifyingly sharp, it was lust and fire in her bones.

She felt his hand at her thighs, urging them apart, then lightly brushing her center. It was like little ripples of electricity shot through her, sending her hips up, making her arch on the bed. He did it again, the barest of touches, and Hermione felt a sound escape her mouth, but was so caught up she didn't hear it.

"What did you say?" asked Severus, a wicked grin on his face as he did it again.

"Please," she mewed, "please touch me." Her body ached for him, that space inside of her yearned to be filled, she  _ wanted _ him at that moment.

Then he was touching her, his fingers were circling her clit and one finger slipped inside of her, and then she was lost to everything but the sensations he was pulling from her. Dimly she recognized when one finger became two, when the curled inside of her, touching a place that made pleasure spread through her abdomen. When her orgasm came, it was in waves, every movement of his fingers prolonging the warm rushes of pleasure. Hermione collapsed back, exhausted and weak in the legs.

A moment later, when she opened her eyes again, she saw Severus looking at her, a grin on his mouth. It was such a foreign expression she had to smile back at him. Then she looked down, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're hard again," she said, almost an accusing note in her voice.

"It wasn't very difficult after watching you," he said, continuing to stroke himself as he had been doing.

With more confidence than the first time, Hermione reached for him, grinning in satisfaction as he groaned and came again, more quickly this time.

A quick spell cleaned them up, removing the evidence of their activities. They both collapsed into the bed, resting above the covers to cool down.

"That was lovely," Hermione said, squeezing Severus' hand. "I love when you touch me like that."

Severus squeezed back. "I'm glad to know I still remember how." There was a hint of seriousness to his joke. "You were also… lovely."

Hermione rolled onto her stomach, raising herself up on her elbows so that she could look at him. "I also like touching you," she said seriously. "I like making you feel so much ... good."

Severus reached up and caressed her cheek from her temple to her jaw to her chin, savoring the feeling of her soft skin under his fingers and the feel of the delicate ridges of the bones of her face. "I feel – I feel very close to you right now, Hermione. Very – very tender, toward you."

Slowly she ducked her head, kissing him from above, her lips barely touching his. She mouthed at his lips, then applied more pressure, smiling into his lips as he responded. "I also feel very tender toward you," she whispered. "I love you, Severus."

She could feel him stiffen. "Hermione-" he began, but she laid a finger over his lips.

"Hush," said Hermione. She then lay down, tucking her back into the curve of his body so that he would curl around her, spooning her. His body was warm and male and comfortable behind her, and the feeling of being held was precious.

For a long few moments, they were quiet, enough so that Hermione wondered if Severus had fallen asleep. But he shifted behind her, and she could both feel and hear his intakes of breath, as if he was about to speak, because his chest was pressed to her back.

"Say whatever you need to say, love," Hermione murmured. Their legs were intertwined, and she rubbed his hairy calf with her foot.

The warm air of his sigh was hot on her neck. "You're worried about tomorrow, aren't you?" he asked. "That was what this was about."

"Don't get defensive and doubting on me, Severus," Hermione said, a hint of a warning in her voice. "Of course I'm worried about letting a boy who hates me poison me and not do a thing to stop it. It feels something akin to considering suicide. And of course, when I'm worried about my life I think of you. You are the biggest reason I want body and soul in the same place, Severus."

Severus shifted again behind her, drawing her body even closer to his own. "I'm not thinking you used me or anything of the sort," he said mildly. "I'm rather pleased you would want to come to me for comfort."

Hermione rolled over, nestling her head in the space next to his shoulder on his chest. "Of course I would, Severus. I think it goes without saying that you are the person I am closest to on this Earth. Of course, I would want comfort from you."

"But that's not the only thing you wanted?" offered Severus. He thought he had heard something else in her voice, something he couldn't quite place.

"I wanted to spend the night with you," admitted Hermione. "I wanted to feel this close to you again, like I did after my birthday. I wanted to enjoy the night if there was a chance it would be my last. Sex seems better to me than reading or writing reports."

Severus chuckled, and she felt his chest rise as he did so. There, at that moment, skin pressed against skin, his heart thumping quietly in her ear, she felt closer to him than she perhaps had ever before. "I would say that I agree with you," he replied.

"Can we make time for this?" asked Hermione. "Make time for each other, for interacting with each other, for making each other feel good? When things are this uncertain I want to feel close to you, Severus. I want to feel like I have something that'll last this war. I want to-" her words failed her as she struggled to name what she felt.

"I want to just be you and me, with nothing else in between," Severus finished for her. "I want that too, Hermione."

What wasn't said was the contradiction of the statement. It was impossible for them to be just a man and a woman alone in a bed, with nothing else between them. They had both been forged by the war, shaped by the war, thrown together by the war. There was nothing normal or natural about their coming together. In normal times they would have been sleeping on opposite ends of the castle, with no more feelings in their hearts for each other than a teacher normally has for their student.

But they could pretend, at least when it was just Hermione and Severus and their bodies were languid and tired and they could whisper to each other and press body against body as if it was just the two of them in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 56. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! Another chapter will be up on Saturday, as per usual... but I only have about 62 chapters written, so that will trickle to an end soon. I promise I'm trying to find time to write, but thanks to COVID, school is on an accelerated schedule and we are almost upon midterms, which is nuts.
> 
> Love to hear all of your comments - I love hearing from you all! We are slowly getting close to a thousand comments, at which time I'll write a oneshot for the 1000th comment!


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Sorasradust, as per usual. And thank you for all of the lovely comments - quick way to bring joy!

**_Chapter 57_ **

"A dueling conference, Filius?" Dumbledore's blue eyes were cheerful, but there was something off with the way in which he said the words. Minerva McGonagall frowned, poking at her scrambled eggs with her fork. There was something amiss there, and from the quick glance Albus gave her, she knew she was bound to find out.

The diminutive Charms professor nodded solemnly. "Yes, in Salem of all places. Apparently they lost their keynote speaker at the last minute and needed a substitute. Nasty incident – he's all ears now, unfortunately. A curse gone wrong. Luckily, the ear that replaced his nose was still capable of breathing or that would have been quite the inglorious end for Dirk Dreferious. Quite the end."

Minerva smiled at her colleague down the table. "Yes, Filius. What an honor! You must be very pleased."

Professor Flitwick puffed with the praise. "Yes, yes, Minerva. You'd think that with the number of dueling championships I have under my belt I would be invited to these types of things more often. In fact, I do believe I defeated Dirk when I was just finishing my career, before coming here to Hogwarts."

"I'm sure it is because they know how valued you are here, Filius," Dumbledore said calmly. "After all, we are losing you for a week to this conference!"

"Yes, thank you, Headmaster, for agreeing to take on my classes," Flitwick said, grimacing slightly. "These things. Can't really be avoided. But all of my classes are doing just splendidly. Pay real attention to that Ginny Weasley – like her older brothers that lass is quick with a wand. I say, if she goes into  _ Quidditch _ instead of proper Charms Mastery-"

At that point in the conversation, Madam Hootch joined in the rather lively debate. Severus scowled and glared at his coffee. He wasn’t tense per se – no, it would be impossible to be tense after the night before – but he felt apprehensive. Someone he cared about – cared  _ deeply _ about – would be putting herself in danger in mere hours. And to top it off that danger would be at the hands of someone else he cared about.

"Severus looks like he bit into a sour lemon," he heard someone – Hootch – say. "What curdled your coffee?"

Severus turned his glare from his coffee to the flying teacher. "Hearing you prattle on about the Quidditch prowess of the Weasleys," he snapped. "Potter was an idiot to choose Weasley for Keeper – he can't keep out Quaffles let alone manage his nerves. If anything he's a blessing to Slytherin and an insult to the art of Keeping."

In return, McGonagall gave him a dark glower. "It's it a little early in the morning to be this acerbic, Severus?" she asked tartly.

"I would be sweeter, but since the Headmaster has dumped the last half of the sugar pot into his coffee I'm afraid this morning I'm left as sour as can be," Severus drawled, half of a smirk coming on his face.

Dumbledore chuckled. "If I had known that all this time all you needed was sugar to be halfway polite in the mornings, Severus, I would have had the house elves keep you in constant supply."

A few more pointed barbs were thrown around until Flitwick polished off the last of his sausage and rose from the table self-importantly.

"I'm off then," he squeaked, buttoning his cape around his neck. "Wish me luck!"

A chorus of well-wishes rose from the table, allowing Severus to retreat back into his meagre breakfast. The first part of the plan, executed.

* * *

"You look wonderfully refreshed this morning, Hermione," remarked Ginny as Hermione slid into a seat next to her. Across from Hermione, Harry was finishing up his Charms homework while Ron was tucking into breakfast. "Have you finally put down your homework sometime before three in the morning?"

Thankfully Hermione was looking at the stack of pancakes and had time to wipe her smile off of her face. "Yes, actually. I took an early night last night. I know I'll have to be studying late in the library tonight, so I thought one day of rest couldn't hurt."

Ron groaned. "Right. That Transfiguration essay is due tomorrow. Shite, I completely forgot to start it. I'll be joining you in the library tonight, Hermione!"

_ Shit. _ "Well, you'll get it done in no time, Ron," Hermione said, thinking hard. "Don't you have Quidditch practise today?"

Harry shook his head. "Look at the weather, Hermione," he said, pointing up. "It's freezing cold rain out there! I'm no Oliver Wood, I'm not going to make the team practice in all weather and have them sick with pneumonia right before a weekend game!"

"And… you also forgot about that Transfiguration essay, didn't you, Harry?" Ginny said wryly. "I'll let Katie and Angelica know that practice is off for tonight."

Hermione and Ron laughed, even as Hermione was cursing her bad luck. There had been countless nights she had spent alone in that library, Harry and Ron on their brooms or in their beds, and tonight of all nights they decide they needed to do homework in a timely fashion? Should she move the timeline of her poisoning up? But then there was always the risk of Severus being called by the Dark Lord and not being in the castle to administer the cure. Earlier meant that there would be more people in the library, more people there to see what was going on.

She took a breath, trying to distance herself. It was all going to work out, one way or another. It would all work out.

The morning owls suddenly swooped in, dimming the noise in the Great Hall for a moment as students paused their conversations to untie packages from impatient birds. Hermione took her Daily Prophet from a sleepy-looking barn owl. Harry wasn't paying attention to the birds, not expecting anything, but to his surprise a large black owl circled down and landed near him, haughtily sticking out a leg with a letter on it.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Don't open that yet, Harry," she said cautiously. "Let me see something quickly." She pulled out her wand, casting a few quick diagnostic spells on the letter while the bird hooted in disgust.

"It looks okay," she said, still frowning. "Go ahead."

"Like he needs your permission, Hermione," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "It's probably from the Ministry with a bird like that." Harry chuckled, but he waited until he got another nod from Hermione to detach the letter.

"I know you're thinking it, so I'm just going to remind you that the Firebolt was indeed from Sirius Black," Hermione said loftily. "What does it say, Harry?"

Harry scanned the parchment for a moment longer, then sighed. "Ron's right, it's from the Ministry. Scrimgeour wants a meeting."

Well then. That was interesting. "Here at Hogwarts, or does he expect you to come all the way to the Ministry at his whim?" asked Hermione. She started drumming her fingers on the table as she thought, ignoring the food that was on her plate. Why did he want a meeting? What could he possibly want?

"Well that's the funny thing," Harry said. "He's coming to the castle at 10:00. He wants to meet today."

_ Well that gives me no time to plan,  _ thought Hermione. "How nice of him to give you advance notice," Hermione said sourly. "What do you want to do?"

There was an expression of slight surprise on Harry's face. "What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should do it, mate," Ron said, his eyes flicking between Harry and Hermione. "Percy seems to like the bloke, and he's a good sight better than Fudge ever was. Wonder what it's about?"

"Probably this." They turned toward Ginny, who was holding up Hermione's copy of  _ The Daily Prophet. _ Hermione, her spoon halfway up to her mouth, froze. Ron sputtered. Harry's eyes narrowed.

In large letters, the headline read, " **_RUFUS SCRIMGEOUR FOUND TO HAVE FORMER DEATH EATER FOR LOVER!_ ** " Below the headline was a picture with a magical block on it, warning the readers it contained sensitive material and needed to be tapped with a wand to be seen.

Around them in the Great Hall, as people opened their  _ Daily Prophets _ and read the headlines there were gasps and exclamations as word spread around the room. Wordlessly, Hermione dropped her spoon and unsheathed her wand, tapping the picture to reveal what lay underneath.

It was apparently Scrimgeour's home – the moving picture showed the Minister for Magic opening the door, bare-chested, for a man in a long cloak, pulling him into a kiss before moving into the house. To Hermione, something about the man was familiar, but not familiar enough that she could place him in an instant. She had seen him once, maybe twice before? A Ministry worker, tall, thin – Yaxley. It was Yaxley. He was a Death Eater; she had seen him in the graveyard.

"Well, shit," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I suppose this does answer that question."

"What happens now for him?" asked Harry. "Now that he's known to be with a Death Eater?"

Ginny winced. "It's not that he's with a former Death Eater that's the problem, Harry," she said awkwardly. "Lucius Malfoy always hung around Fudge and that was never a problem. It's because – well, it's because it's a man."

"I reckon he's going to be impeached, or at least threatened with it," added Ron. "There aren't any outright rules – I mean, Dumbledore was head of the Wizengamot for years – but the Death Eater part will be the excuse."

"That's barbaric," snapped Hermione in a hushed voice.

"Dumbledore's gay?" asked Harry at the same time.

"Yes, and there have been rumors," Ginny answered, looking at Hermione first and then Harry. "Wizarding society is slow to change. And the rumors are just rumors, but well – Dumbledore's never been married. No one knows if he's ever had a partner."

"Great Aunt Muriel says that everyone suspected he had something with Grindlewald," Ron said quietly. "And I forgot who suggested Nicholas Flamel too."

Hermione cleared her throat loudly. "If we could  _ stop _ speculating about Dumbledore's love life, we need to figure out what Harry is going to do about this meeting."

Suddenly, an envelope appeared under Harry's breakfast plate. He took it cautiously. "Dumbledore," he mumbled, opening it with more than a hint of embarrassment. "Um – um he wants to meet with me now. Well, after breakfast. But now."

"Can I see that, Harry?" asked Hermione, frowning.  _ Would Dumbledore have sent it so obviously if he didn't want me to come? _

Harry passed the note and she scanned it quickly. It was written in Dumbledore's 'dotty old man' voice he usually used with Harry, not the stern and calculating voice he used when he sent notes to Hermione. Yes, there it was, it said: "feel free to bring along your wits and your shadow." She wasn't sure if she was meant to be the wits or the shadow, but either way, she was going to be in that office.

The first thing that Hermione did when she turned back through time was to race to her private room and pull out her enchanted notebook. It was here that she had stored extensive notes on everything, absolutely everything. The notebook expanded as she wrote more, never finishing. At the beginning, the notes were in a carefully practised and yet still childish hand, notes on spells and potions and Occlumency, from her first summer in Safe House Three. Closer to the end the subjects got darker, Horcruxes and soul magic and secrets. It was a confusing mess if one didn't know how to use it, as Severus had told her many a time before. Each time, Hermione had fondly stroked the worn brown leather and said that confusing messes were exactly what magic was meant for.

It was the secrets that Hermione was the most interested in, the secrets gleaned from Severus, from Rita, from all the spies in Severus's extended network. It was in this notebook that she recorded Severus' reports when he returned from meetings with spies and Death Eaters, where she took her notes during Order meetings, where she noted the gossip that Rita Skeeter reluctantly scrawled – in as an illegible a hand as possible – into a notepad linked with another of Hermione's notebooks.

The last page was a painfully cramped index. Names and names and names of people were followed by page numbers - all she had to do was speak the name of the person she was looking for and their name would glow on the page.

"Let's start with Yaxley," she murmured. What did she know about him?

There was a sketch on one page from one of Severus's agents – or maybe Severus himself? – that Severus had given her. He was a thin man, with gaunt cheeks and an odd little moustache. She skimmed her notes – there wasn't much on Yaxley. Ministry employee, Slytherin, worked in the Department of Magical Files and Records. Never married, no children. According to Severus, didn't particularly like torture. Wasn't creative with torture spells, wasn't vicious with families. However, he still used his position in the Ministry to get addresses and discover information about potential blood traitors, or the homes of Muggleborn students for other Death Eaters to kill. Hermione felt a chill run down her spine – this man would have had access to her parent's address for years. She felt a surge of gratefulness that she and Severus had taken care of her parents so long ago.

Overall, he wasn't one of the particularly nasty Death Eaters – but he wasn't particularly pleasant either. He was cowardly, with a weak stomach. Severus had told her that he was repeatedly mocked by other Death Eaters for his squeamishness, for his less aggressive attributes. But still, he had risen to favor after Fudge had been ousted – and now they knew why.

"Now let's look at Scrimgeour." The journal flipped pages of its own accord, turning open to a page with a number of newspaper clippings about Scrimgeour. He looked like a lion, Hermione thought, with a mane of wild russet hair with streaks of grey, and a broad nose with wide set eyes. It was more the eyes and the nose that made him look like a lion, that gave him the sense of the feline. He was broad-shouldered and well-muscled, a body made for fighting.

But he was shrewd, she knew, clever. He had made his way from the Auror department to the head of Magical government for England – no easy feat. He would have been up against Amelia Bones – a sympathetic figure who also had a few scars from fighting off the Death Eater attack on her home over the summer. But he had insisted that he had insider knowledge from fitting Death Eaters all of those years, that he did not have any dependents that could be held over him and prevent him from doing his job. He had done a good job so far – cracking down on crime, forcing the Wizengamot to strengthen Auror forces. But this… this would wreak his career. And for the wrong reason too. Who would replace him? Would Amelia Bones win this time?

The key question for Hermione was if they could – or should – risk trying to bring the disgraced Scrimgeour into the folds of the Outer Circle, or even Inner Circle, of the Order. He was a powerful and capable wizard, there was no doubt about it. He would be an asset to the Death Eaters, an asset who knew far too many national secrets. If he were to join the Dark Lord, it would bring them one step closer to the fall of the Ministry for Magic. No, they should try to recruit him. They could spin it well, she thought – perhaps working for the Order of the Phoenix would allow him to work for the Ministry once again after the war was over. If she had anything to do with it, the Ministry would reform some of its bigoted policies after the war.

Well, that decided things. Hermione closed her journal and hid it away once again, then left her chambers for Dumbledore's office.

* * *

Dumbledore's office was warm, almost too warm. Still, Scrimgeour was pale and shaking, as if he were freezing. There were large dark circles under his eyes, and stubble around his chin. His famous mane of hair looked dry and dulled, more grey than red. The broad-shouldered, confident Auror was gone, and who was left was a broken man, pleading with Harry and Dumbledore in turn.

"Please, please, I never shared anything with him, you must understand-" He stopped as Hermione entered the room. His eyes narrowed slightly. "What-"

"I'm sure you've heard the stories and rumors, Scrimgeour," Hermione said quietly. "You know why I'm here."

Harry looked over at Hermione in relief. He was distinctly uncomfortable with begging and pleading – he was not one for power. Dumbledore, however, was, but still, the older man did not look pleased with the proceedings.  _ In fact, he looks rather pained, _ Hermione noted.  _ It must be difficult for him. _

Hermione went to stand behind Dumbledore's desk, on the right-hand side of the older man. "Have you called in Kingsley, yet?" she asked in a low voice. "I have an idea."

Dumbledore looked up at her, a bemused smile on his face. "I'm sure it is a brilliant one, my dear," he said mildly. "What would you like us to do now?"

"Let's bring Mr. Scrimgeour to Safe House Three," Hermione suggested. "I'll ensure that we have a friend there to keep the Minister company." Cedric was still based at Safe House Three as he did his research into Horcruxes – he could certainly watch the disgraced politician.

"I'm no longer the Minister," Scrimgeour interrupted. "We're out of time – the Wizengamout is voting to oust me now." His voice was bitter, and he scowled at Dumbledore and Hermione. "If we hadn't wasted time  _ waiting _ for this snip of a girl, you could have come before them, both of you, and convinced them that they needed me-"

"Shut up," Hermione said ruthlessly. "Stop your whinging. You knew that there was no chance, that this was a last-ditch attempt. Don't blame them for your own mistake."

Furious, the disgraced man glared up at her. "So you, you too, you ride up on your high horse and think that you're better than me just because-"

"I don't give a whit about the gender of who you're sleeping with," Hermione said coldly. "I do care that you've given a  _ Death Eater _ a chance to access the sensitive information that you are privy to – that you  _ were _ privy to – as Minister for Magic. That was irresponsible, and could have cost us the war. You are going to go to the Safe House until the Order can figure out how to turn your error into an advantage."

Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "Very well," he said. "Harry, you can get back to class. Hermione, I'm assuming you'll join him… later?"

"Yes," replied Hermione. "Harry, I'll be down in a turn in and a wink." With a nod, and a refusal to look at Scrimgeour, Harry left.

The arrangements were made quickly – Hermione Floo'd to Safe House Three with a visibly confused Scrimgeour in tow. Cedric gladly agreed to watch him, and Hermione raised the wards on the house that would prevent anyone from finding Scrimgeour. The last thing they needed was for someone to come hunting him down. The house-elves set to work making the tired man some lunch, and Cedric cleared his papers away with a wave of his wand. Scrimgeour simply sank into a squashy armchair by the fire, bitterness in every line of his body.

Hermione quickly Floo'd back to Dumbledore's office, where she was pleased to find that both Kingsley and Severus were waiting. They had been in conversation; as soon as she arrived, all eyes were on her.

"You said you had an idea, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked. "Let's hear it." With a wave of his wand, he conjured a sparkly purple chair for her to sit in. Hermione sat in it carefully, sharing a warm smile with Severus and Kingsley.

"I'm glad you were both able to come so quickly," she said. "Yes, I have an idea, and we'll need to work quickly if it's to work at all. We've been worried because this relationship has meant that Yaxley has had an opportunity to get at us through Scrimgeour – what if we used Scrimgeour to get at the Death Eaters through Yaxley? Hopefully, there would have been affection on both sides of the arrangement – we can attempt to determine that anyway – but perhaps we could kidnap Yaxley, interrogate him. Use him for – for something. I'm not sure yet. But he would be useful."

She was tense, taut, waiting for Severus' approval of her plan. Hermione's eyes were intent on her lover, analyzing his face and his reaction. His eyes were tired, she saw, probably from their late night the evening before. But still, there was something to his face that was something akin to rejuvenation. He was only thirty-five – she thought of him as old, older, but in truth, he was still a young man in his prime. He was looking it more every day.

The surly professor frowned, but it wasn't an unhappy frown – just a Severus frown. "It would be difficult. We'd have to do it exactly right – and Scrimgeour would have to be fully willing to cooperate."

Kingsley shrugged, his dark skin in sharp contrast to his bright blue Auror's uniform. "I could make sure that Tonks and I would have the day off. Brunnings too, if you needed an extra hand."

"And we'd need a place to store Yaxley while we wait," Severus added, absentmindedly tracing his lips with a long, pale finger. "That would be an issue."

Damn, that was sexy – but his words, less so. Hermione sighed. "Well, I'm quite sure that if we offer Scrimgeour a promise of the future political capital of bringing Yaxley in he would be agreeable. That doesn't mean that it would work, of course, but we could agree to speak on his behalf. As for storing Yaxley…" she hesitated. "Well… I've had an idea. A half-baked idea. One that would require someone… expendable."

The eyebrows of both Dumbledore and Kingsley rose dangerously high, and both men tried to speak at the same time.

"I highly doubt-"

"Are you sure that you've-"

Hermione winced and raised a hand. "That wasn't quite the right phrasing, sorry. Let me explain. Draco Malfoy has obtained an opal necklace from Borgin and Burkes that he had been planning on using to attack me personally, on the request of the Dark Lord. As you both now, he is now working with Severus and me on this task. However, he is still in possession of that necklace. Apparently, it stores souls, or traps souls, depending on who you ask. I want to experiment with it to address the Horcruxes, but that means I need a soul that can be trapped. I am also interested in the effect it would have on the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters through the Dark Mark. If we could get Yaxley – and if my 'poisoning' goes to plan tonight, I would have a few days with which I could experiment with Yaxley and the- well, and the necklace. And his soul."

Unfortunately, it appeared that neither Dumbledore nor Kingsley was reassured. "That seems – well, honestly, Hermione, it seems a bit dark," said Kingsley, a furrow in his brow. His large brown hands twisted in his lap, a rare sign of discomfort from the usually stoic man. " _ Experimenting _ with someone's soul? Who deserves that?"

"Who deserves to have their defenseless Muggle parents murdered because they have the audacity to be a Muggleborn who works at the Ministry?" drawled Severus. "I say murdered, but I really mean tortured to death. Violently. With the slow removal of body parts, pain-causing spells, rape, and humiliation. Often all that is left is a pile of parts and a good deal of blood. And all because Yaxley handed over names and addresses to the Dark Lord. He doesn't have as much fun with the participation as other Death Eaters do, but he is still involved. He deserves many painful deaths. Or his life could be used to figure out this confounding business with souls that got us into this mess with an undying megalomaniac for an opponent. If we want this war to end any time soon, we need to get an advantage greater than a pimply sixteen-year-old with a penchant for getting into trouble and a piece of the Dark Lord's soul embedded in his forehead." His voice was cutting, yet quiet.

_ Telling them was, perhaps, a mistake,  _ thought Hermione.  _ Time to put on the schoolgirl. _ She leaned forward, widening her eyes. "I will not hurt him," she said, conveying as much honesty and openness as she could. "I am not a torturer. I am not Bellatrix; I don't like playing with my food before I eat it. For him, it will be as painless as I can make it, and I'll do my absolute best to have him in one piece when this is finished. This is not sinking to their level, this is trying to give us the tools we need to defeat the Dark Lord."

Kingsley still hesitated. "Are there any other options? Any-"

"Would you rather her experiment on the souls of children? Order members? Innocent civilians?" asked Severus, the silky lightness of his voice doing nothing to disguise his cutting words. "Or perhaps you can get her some felons – but wait. The Auror department hasn't caught a criminal in months, at least not one who's done anything more than selling a few false charms or lying about the prices of their property. Certainly, they haven't captured any truly  _ evil _ characters, not a single Death Eater since six children rounded some up for you in the very bowels of the Ministry last year-"

From behind his desk, Dumbledore sighed and held up his good hand. "Very well, Severus. I see your point. Hermione, if you promise us that you'll be ethical and kind in your dealings with this man – to the extent that your work allows you to be – we give our permission for this plot of yours to go forward." Kinglsey frowned and crossed his arms, but said nothing.

Hermione nodded, suppressing a victorious grin. "Thank you, Albus. If I might borrow Severus for some planning?"

The man next to her snorted at her comment. "If Severus will allow himself to be borrowed," said the headmaster lightly, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

" _ Severus  _ has classes to teach today – in fact, right now – so he'll have to be transported through time to do so," Severus said crossly. "So let's get to it. Time of the essence and all of that."

Kingsley and Hermione shared a small smile. "Of course I'll be able to take you through time, Severus," Hermione said. "Do we have anything else to discuss?"

"I believe not, my dear girl," said Dumbledore. "We'll also release you now, Kingsley. Thank you for coming at such short notice on such a busy day for the Ministry."

Standing, the Auror gave a worried look to the other Order members. "Be careful," he told them. "This isn't worth getting hurt over." He offered Severus and Dumbledore a handshake each, and leaned over to give Hermione a kiss on the forehead. "Be safe," he admonished her. Hermione wasn't surprised – he had always viewed her in a fatherly light since he had trained her the summer after her third year.

"I will, Kingsley," she told him. "See you later." With that, the tall Auror waved and stepped up to the fireplace, Flooing away.

Dumbledore looked at the man and woman remaining before him. "Well, I trust the two of you will sort things out," he said. "If you need anything, Severus, let me know."

Hermione and Severus took their leave, travelling down the spiral staircase until they stood before the door leading to the rest of the castle. Without a word, Severus drew his wand and tapped Hermione's head, and then his own, disguising them from view.

Silently, Hermione followed the shimmer that was Severus to the seventh floor, to the Room of Requirement. A moment passed. A door appeared, and opened. Hermione knew he would be holding it open for her; she passed through, and it closed.

The room was simple, with a fireplace and two large armchairs by the fire. Tables stood to the side of each armchair, in case one of them wanted a surface to write on. A large sheepskin rug was spread on the flagstones, and several braziers sent the pleasant smell of sandalwood into the air. It was cozy and warm, but also functional.

Severus reappeared a moment later, a scowl on his face. Hermione sighed and tapped her own wand to her head to remove the spell. "You can wipe that scowl off of your face," she told him tartly.

The scowl deepened. "I'm not scowling," snapped Severus.

Hermione moved closer to him, a small smile on her face. She rested a hand on his chest, then trailed it up to his face to caress his cheek, tracing his lips with her fingers. "Liar."

Severus' arms came around her, pulling her close. "Fine. I was scowling. Do I get a kiss for telling the truth?" The hints of a smile were playing in his dark eyes, a smile that Hermione longed to draw out.

"It depends," she teased him. "On how good a kiss it would be. What are you promising?"

That made him smirk, at least, and draw her into him until they were pressed together tightly. He leaned down, brushing the shell of her ear with his lips. "A sensuous kiss," he told her, making his voice as silky as he possibly could. "One that will make you… moan."

Hermione shivered despite herself. "Well then," she said, feeling infused in her voice. "Kiss me."

First, he kissed her ear, then the skin below it. His lips traced the line of her jaw, and then found her mouth. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss from a man who liked to claim with his mouth. His lips caressed her own, his tongue swiped at her lower lip, then gained entrance to her mouth. Unsurprisingly, Hermione did indeed moan.

All too soon, he pulled away. "As much as I would like to continue this on the rug," he murmured, "I am afraid that we have some planning to do."

"We do," said Hermione with regret, lowering herself from tip-toe she had been maintaining to kiss Severus. A languorous desire was threatening to settle in her bones, a desire that would distract from what they had to do.

They settled in front of the fire, turning their minds to the problems at hand.

"So we have a lot to do today," Hermione started. "We need to get Yaxley, and I need to get poisoned by Draco. Is there any way to connect those two events? Make our lives easier?"

"Perhaps," Severus said slowly. "We could have Scrimgeour contact Yaxley while the Death Eaters receive news of your poisoning. It would be busy, he could slip out without anyone noticing. If there is a celebration and he goes missing, then no one would notice right away, and if they did notice, they would first assume it had to do with the drink. Yaxley is fond of alcohol."

Hermione nodded. "That would be good. We could have Scrimgeour lure Yaxley out with a promise of information about my condition – would he leave for that? For a chance to get information that would put him back in the Dark Lord's favor after losing his source of information?"

"Brilliant. That would work, or it should work. We really do need to think about where we should store him." Severus frowned deeply. "Yaxley has the third version of the Dark Mark, the one that connects him deeply to the Dark Lord. The easy answer would be to remove his arm-"

"No," Hermione said immediately. "No, I want to study it. What kind of wards could we put up to prevent the Mark from revealing his location? Are the wards at Safe House Three strong enough?"

Severus shook his head. "No, no they wouldn't be. We would have to construct something ourselves, or build off of something strong, or confuse the signal."

"How accurate is the sense of where he is?" asked Hermione. "Does it know where one Dark Mark is? Or if there are two Death Eaters in the same place, can he differentiate between them?"

"I don't think so," Severus said slowly. "I think the Dark Lord has a general sense of where the power is coming from, not an individual personalized connection to each person. When he presses it, he can see if there is an anomaly – someone who is farther away than someone else, for example – and he can follow that until that one Mark becomes clear. Are you suggesting trying to mask Yaxley with my Dark Mark? They are different, they wouldn't work."

"Not with your Dark Mark, no," said Hermione carefully. "But with Draco's. He has a Dark Mark now – if we kept Yaxley here, in the dungeons somewhere, I think it could work."

Severus leaned back in his chair. Hermione could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he considered her proposition. "I see two problems with this plan. The first is that the Dark Lord would sense more power coming from Hogwarts, and he might assume that either Draco was growing more powerful, or I was growing more powerful. The second problem would be your experimentation with the Mark – if you do anything to it, the Dark Lord would sense it. No, we need to completely mask what is happening."

Hermione sighed. "I was worried you would say that," she admitted. "Ok. So not the dungeons. Do you think that you could build wards that would keep him?"

Tracing his lips with a finger, Severus thought. "I could try," he said slowly. "They wouldn't be perfect. I would have to muffle Yaxley, I think. The Dark Mark feeds off of his magic. I think you need to make a choice – do you want to experiment with his Dark Mark, or do you want to experiment with his soul? I could remove his magic, which would render the Mark inert, allowing soul experimentation."

"I'm not married to the idea of removing the Mark just yet," Hermione said with a sigh, fiddling with the pearl around her neck. "I still need to do more research on that. But for now, I am very concerned about the soul research. If you could block off his magic in some way, disconnect it from his Mark... that seems that it would work for me."

Severus sat up suddenly. "We drain him. That's it." He gestured toward the pearl necklace he had given her. "That's how we do it. We use something – gemstones, probably – to drain his magic away from his body. The Dark Lord doesn't see the Death Eaters of Hogwarts as growing in power, because the Mark has nothing to pull from Yaxley. If you experiment with the Mark then, it shows nothing. Then if we wanted to restore Yaxley's magic to him, it would just be a matter of removing it from the gemstones."

"Brilliant!" Hermione said happily. "Can you set that up today? Figure out what gems we need, purchase or find them?"

Severus waved a hand at her. "Of course, of course. I'll figure out a room in the dungeon for you to practice on him while you're explaining the plan to Scrimgeour."

Hermione nodded resolutely. "And then the poisoning."

Something in her lover's gaze softened. "We will save you. You'll be fine."

"About that," Hermione said, a thought coming to her. "It looks like Harry and Ron will be joining me in the library tonight. I think that we should give the bezoars to Harry. Give him another opportunity to be a hero."

An expression akin to snarl lit upon Severus's face. "Potter does  _ not _ need another opportunity for pointless heroics-"

"Yes, he does," Hermione said firmly. "He needs to feel like he has a part in this movement, and people need to respect him." She stood, and went to sit on the arm of Severus' chair. Resting a hand on his sleeve, Hermione looked her lover in the eye. "It would give me peace of mind," she told him. "I'm worried that something is going to go wrong.

Gently, Severus laid a hand over Hermione's smaller one, looking up at her soft dark eyes. "Nothing is going to go wrong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 57. 
> 
> I know, I know - you all were looking forward to the poisoning, but we needed to put a few things in place first! Next chapter, all the poisoning you could desire.
> 
> Until next Saturday! Comments and kudos all greatly appreciated!


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning!
> 
> Not going to sugarcoat it - JKR really is making it harder and harder to solidly engage with Harry Potter, isn't she? Transwomen are women, TERFs can fuck off. End of story.

_**Chapter 58** _

Later, when Hermione thought back to that moment between her and Severus in the Room of Requirement, a wry sense of irony would rise within her. Nothing going wrong? Of course, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, they were doomed.

After another lovely little snog in the Room of Requirement, they had gone their separate ways, Hermione to the Safe House to talk to Scrimgeour, and Severus to the dungeons to prepare a place for Yaxley. House-elves were sent to buy a variety of gemstones for Severus under the guise of potions ingredients, disguising the pyrite that would be used to store Yaxley's magic while he was in the dungeon.

Scrimgeour was surprisingly easy to convince. He was a broken man, it seemed, all of the color faded from his skin and hair and eyes. He wrote out a letter that Hermione looked over carefully – she didn't see any signs of trickery, but there was much a couple in love could conceive of between themselves. The letter said that if Yaxley could find the time, Scrimgeour would be waiting for him at a particular park in Muggle London. He begged his lover to come find him, to figure out a plan.

"Look at me," she commanded finally, turning her full power to his gaze. The man had tawny eyes, with flecks of orange and gold within the brown. Hermione pushed forward with her magic, forcing her mind into his without bothering to make her Legilimency subtle. He was at her mercy now; if he didn't like her looking in his mind, he shouldn't have found himself in this position to begin with. Hermione had little pity for a man who would place his own wants and needs over the cause of the war. She ignored the small voice that asked if – perhaps – she was doing the same in conducting a relationship with Severus at this dangerous time.

She scanned his memory of writing the letter, seeing nothing that alarmed her in his thoughts. Pushing farther, Hermione looked for memories of Yaxley. In Scrimgeour's mind, that thin moustache was charming, not silly. The Death Eater's gauntness was appealing, especially compared to the Auror's own muscles. There was an appreciation for the lines of Yaxley's face that Hermione had not seen before, a fondness for the grace in his movements. Other thoughts flooded those memories of Yaxley; beyond images of candlelight on the man's face, there were powerful feelings of lust and bodies moving together –

"Those are not yours." A red flush appeared high on Scrimgeour's cheeks. "I understand looking for duplicity with the letter, but – but those are not your memories to examine."

Hermione, feeling slightly off-kilter, just nodded. "Severus will be here to pick you up this evening. You have our word – if you help us capture Yaxley, we will support your political career after the war."

"Yes, because politics is all that matters," Scrimgeour said bitterly. "You emotionless bitch."

Coldly, Hermione looked down at the man in the armchair. "Do we need to find another motivator for you?" she asked, ignoring the insult. She would get snippy if she were backed this far into a corner.

The disgraced Minister snorted. "My kids? I don't have any. No family, no relatives who would be proud to claim me, no legacy other than a political one. I have nothing left."

 _That is dangerous thinking_ , Hermione thought. _I'll tell Severus to be careful._

* * *

Before dinner, Hermione pulled Harry into an unoccupied corner of the Gryffindor Common Room, grateful that she was able to catch him alone. Well – that she had been able to engineer a situation in which she could catch him alone. Ron barely noticed, stamping up the stairs as he muttered to himself about Neville's clumsiness. It wasn't his fault that he hadn't noticed Hermione bump Neville at just the right time, such that the bottle of ink he was holding had spilt over Ron's shirt. And if no one noticed that she had silently Vanished the stopper – well, they would just think that Neville was forgetful.

It was funny – he had certainly earned that reputation their first year, but Hermione couldn't help but notice that that the boy who had stammered and needed a bloody Remembrall was now broad-shouldered and more thoughtful than forgetful. Mentally, she scheduled a conversation with him for her some time after her recovery period.

Focusing her attention on the boy in front of her, Hermione felt another wiggle of fear in her gut. "Are you ready, Harry?" she asked quietly. Waiting for his reply, she bit the side of her cheek.

To his credit, Harry only looked half as nervous as he probably felt. "Snape palmed off the bezoar to me when he was handing back essays in our last DADA class," he said quietly. "It's in my pocket."

"And the spell?" she demanded.

" _Degluttiate_ ," repeated Harry dutifully. "I shove the bezoar into your mouth, the spell forces you to swallow. I've got this." It would have been a little more confidence-inducing if he didn't look quite so green around the gills.

Hermione let out a long breath. "Good. Good. That will give me and Slughorn enough time. You're sure it's a bezoar and not just a random pebble? Or raisin?"

Harry let out a half-hearted laugh. "What would happen? If you weren't to get the bezoar in time?"

In her mind's eye, Hermione saw a row of cages filled with dead Nifflers. And then another few who moved slowly, stared at food without eating it, or dragged themselves around on their front legs. She swallowed hard. "Not great things. Just- be fast with it, ok? In our tests, within a minute was key. I'll give you a sign before I do anything."

"And if someone asks why I just have a bezoar on me?" asked Harry.

Hermione shrugged. "Everyone knows you don't trust Snape, just as much as everyone knows the Dark Lord is after you. It would make sense for you to carry one around anyway. Just a precaution."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah. How expensive are these things?"

"Expensive," Hermione admitted. "But Severus has a few in his storeroom. Remind me to get one for you soon. Or you could ask him yourself."

"Fat chance," Harry said with a snort. "I wouldn't put it past him to give me a petrified piece of rat shit instead of a real bezoar."

"Constant vigilance," Hermione warned Harry. "Don't put it past him. Don't put it past anyone. The only person you can trust-"

"-Is yourself, I know, Hermione." To his credit, Harry did not roll his eyes as much as Hermione could sense he wanted to. "You always have three and a half back up plans."

It was true. They both knew that the years of training Hermione had received had shaped her in more ways than one – and what could tutelage under none other than Mad-Eye Moody do for someone other than inject a little more paranoia into their lives?

Hermione ran through her plan in her head. Book, send Harry and Ron off, quill, poison, bezoar, Hospital Wing, safety. What could go wrong with each piece? Marietta was taken care of. If Ron wouldn't bugger off, she'd mention that she had just remembered that Ginny mentioned having a date with Michael Corner to wander the halls and do a bit of snogging. If Draco couldn't lace the quills, he'd hold his up, Disillusion it, she would Summon it, and then make it reappear. Harry had the bezoar – and that it was it. The sticking point in the plan. If that went wrong, the rest of it didn't matter.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then fiddled with one of the chains around her neck. "Harry, you should take this," she said, willing her hands to stop trembling. "Just in case."

Eyes wide, the boy in front of her looked at what she was offering him. "Constant vigilance indeed, Hermione."

* * *

The tension between the two men made it feel like it ought to be one of those nights when rain lashes at a pavement lit only by the light of a small sliver of pale moon. Instead, it was relatively pleasant for London in the fall. It was bright enough, too, with a plump moon a solid few days away from full and dangerous. A brisk breeze ruffled Scrimgeour's shaggy hair, but it wasn't cold enough to penetrate through his ill-fitting Muggle clothing, complete with puffy blue coat. As usual, Severus' face was a smooth mask with a slight scowl. He was wearing a black leather jacket that had fit him perfectly fifteen years ago, and dark Muggle clothing. Together, the two men painted an odd picture, the red and blues of the former Minister harsh against the dark form next to him. The breadth of Scrimgeour's shoulders made Severus look slim in comparison.

"Go wait for him on that bench," said Severus quietly. "I'll Disillusion myself and stand near those trees. Make no mistake, my wand will be on you the entire time."

Scrimgeour scowled. "Does it matter? You have my wand anyway."

Severus allowed a faint smile to appear on his lips. "That I do. Still, no misbehavior or Apparating away with Yaxley." He retreated to the trees to wait, and Scrimgeour fidgeted on the bench. Severus wasn't worried – earlier in the day he had very deliberately taken samples of Scrimgeour's blood and hair, to make a tracking charm with if needed. The man was very well aware that mountains would need to be moved to hide him from the Order, and that the Dark Lord was not likely to do such a thing. Even for the former Minister for Magic. Severus allowed himself a small smirk. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. The golden boy Auror, reduced to… this.

They were to wait for the signal from Draco that Hermione had been poisoned. The thought made Severus' tripes clench with a silent fear. It would be fine. The poison that Draco had was strong, real, with visible and noticeable symptoms. The point was to make the entire library notice what was happening, after all. Severus had worked hard to alter it, to lessen the pain Hermione would feel, to draw out the symptoms such that, with the aid of a bezoar he had slipped to Potter, there would be enough time for Slughorn, as the resident Potions Professor, would have time to "create" the antidote Severus had already made.

That had been quite the annoying conversation. He had wanted Hermione to do it, but she and Dumbledore had both insisted that Slughorn would be more likely to participate if he could claim as much of the spotlight as possible. For that, Severus would have to (reluctantly) explain the process of how he had distilled the original potion, crafted a new poison, then tried and tested various antidotes on Nifflers until he had stumbled upon the key. And then Slughorn would get to pretend to be the hero, having completed this process over the course of mere hours instead of weeks. It shouldn't have gotten under his skin, and yet it did anyway.

He wanted to be the one to rescue Hermione. It was ridiculous, it really was. He knew it, and she knew it. But still, a part of Severus craved that time as the knight in shining armor. It was alarming, really, how deeply he wanted to step out of the shadows where Hermione was concerned.

Severus shook his head minutely, narrowing his attention on Scrimgeour. It would be a long evening.

* * *

_I really shouldn't have to rush if I have a Time-Turner,_ Hermione thought crossly as she hurried through the halls of Hogwarts, hurrying to the library. Even as she thought it, an uneasy feeling swept through her stomach. She had had enough Time-Turner for the day. Sometimes, especially late in the day, the thought of propelling herself through time again made her stomach force bile up her throat, made a chill run through her spine, made her hands feel leaden.

At this time of day, the library of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was never quite full. It was late enough in the day that the after-dinner crowd had finished up their homework, and really only the people working on longer essays were still roaming the stacks for research books or writing frantically at one of the long tables in the center hub.

For a place dedicated to learning, the library was anything but rational. Madam Pince had a desk near the entrance, where one could check out books or return them. This desk guarded the wide path to the center hub of the library, where several long tables were illuminated by floating orbs. High glass windows rose up in the back of the library, and on the sides, with smaller windows with window seats peppered on the walls. Tucked in one small edge of the library was the Restricted Section; somehow, Pince always appeared at the gated entrance whenever anyone came too near – even if she had been seated at her front desk mere moments ago. From the center hub, spokes of stacks stretched out, seemingly endlessly. Tucked among the sections were smaller tables, made to seat six or four students at a time, usually clustered in groups of two or three. Some sections were smaller than others; Muggle Studies only boasted two tables, while Transfiguration had eight.

It was here that Hermione found Ron and Harry – and Draco. Her two close friends were slowly working on their essays, heads turning between book and parchment. Harry seemed more distracted than usual – if Hermione knew him at all, it was because he was all too aware of the bezoar in his pocket. Ron was oblivious – Hermione waffled over including him in these decisions more and more. He had matured a lot over the last year, but there was still something about his boyish tempers that made her reluctant to trust him with more information than she had to. For now, she anxiously toed the line between giving him enough information to feel included and hoping he didn't find out about the things she shared with Harry. It was never fun to be the one on the outside looking in, and she had long known that Ron was very capable of being jealous of the relationship between her and Harry.

Draco, on the other hand, was alone at his table, his white-blond hair bright in the darkness of the library. He was solitary at a table meant for at least four people, his books casually spread across all of the workspaces. There was a subtle tension in the lines of his body, enough to let an experienced watcher know that he was actively trying to control his nervousness. Since he had joined the Order, Draco had reported to Hermione once weekly. This had given her time to get to know the aristocrat, know the ways his frame fell when he was on edge and trying to control it.

Clutching the book on Inferi to her chest and hoping Ron wouldn't pay much attention to it, Hermione made her way to her usual seat across from the boys. Occasionally Ginny joined them at the seat next to Hermione, but it was rare that there was enough extra room at the table with the number of books Hermione usually brought with her.

"How are the essays coming?" Hermione said in a low voice. "How many inches do you have left?"

Ron groaned. "About ten. This is taking more research than I thought. Why doesn't McGonagall just assign us essays we can do from the class notes?" Harry shook his head next to his friend, having already heard this exchange play out at this same table a number of times over the years. At this point, he suspected Ron just enjoyed getting a rise out of Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron –"

"It's so that we are able to develop a palate for opinions," Ron interrupted, mimicking Hermione's snotty voice. "I know, I know, you've said it a million times. I would just rather be playing chess is all. Neville's finally agreed to play me, and you know he grandmother taught him."

That was enough to cause Hermione to raise her eyebrows and she arranged her writing instruments around her. "Oh? Then you might actually be up for a challenge, Ron."

"If I ever finish this bloody essay," said Ron gloomily. "Will you read it when I'm done?" At the expression on Hermione's face, he sighed. "I thought I might as well ask."

The trio worked quietly in the candlelight, dwindling down the inches. Marietta had yet to appear. Hermione, bored, began her reading for the next month's Charm lessons. This was on bonding charms – Flitwick had, of course, taught these to her years ago in Safe House Three. The book was an old textbook by a notoriously thorough academic Dominic Shortquill, who had been censured by his Charms Mastery program for submitting a thesis that was more footnote than original work.

_Bonding charms allow linkages to be created between two people, two objects, or a person and an object. Stable, preferably magical numbers are highly suggested. Twos work well, as do threes and sevens. Fours should be avoided, as such systems show an unnaturalness not found in nature._

_The uses of bonding charms range from devices as mundane as a door handle that only works for the bondee to as important as a linkage of souls in the old traditional marriage ceremonies._

At this, Hermione sat up. _A linkage of souls? That I haven't read about?_ Immediately, her fingers itched to dive in the library and research these marriage charms. But alas, that would have to wait until after the poisoning.

_The problem with such bonding spells is the strength required to maintain them, and the absolute difficulty of breaking such a bond. While a bonded doorknob may be merely Vanished after its use has expired, the Bond of two souls can only be broken – occasionally broken – by death.[324]_

There was a footnote – heart beating in her chest, Hermione prayed that this author was as fastidious an academic as his reputation suggested.

There it was –

_324\. There was, of course, the mysterious case of the Lady of Foxfield, known for being a 'black widow' of a kind. With nine marriages in twelve years – the last seven of which included a soul bond – she was notorious for surviving unscathed. Rumor has it that the Lady managed to trap the souls of her husbands in an ornate opal necklace when the last few bound her life to theirs in an attempt to stave off their almost inevitable murders._

There it was. In a book she had read years ago, in a footnote she had dutifully flipped to and skimmed with a sign of annoyance at all of the pointless anecdotes. Draco was the key – Borgin and Burkes had bought the opal necklace, they had said something about souls, and then Draco – _Draco_ – had purchased it to use against her. And now she would use it to pull that soul from Harry Potter's head to engineer the defeat of the Dark Lord. She couldn't prevent a laugh from bubbling up in her throat.

"Don't laugh at me because this is your own damn fault," hissed Marietta Edgecombe. A thick layer of foundation wasn't enough to hide the raised, angry pimples on the girl's fleshy cheeks, broken only by her slightly upturned nose.

Hermione slammed her book shut and lifted her head in surprise. "Marietta!" she exclaimed. "Oh – sorry – I wasn't laughing at you – it was just that I figured something out –" She blushed, despite herself, as Ron and Harry both winced. "Um – did you need something?"

Marietta glared at Hermione. "I need _On the Inferi of Western Europe_ for Snape's class. Madam Pince said that you had it out – even though the essay was due a week ago – and you had yet to return it." Her voice was annoyed and a little embarrassed. The entire section now could hear that she had to make up an essay that had been due a week ago.

"Oh, of course!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'll go return it now. Stay here, I'll just check it back in and bring it to you. I won't be a moment!" With a feeling of nauseating trepidation growing in her belly, Hermione dug through her book bag and found the heavy tome. She put it on the table, along with two of her beautiful eagle feather quills.

Marietta sighed. "I'll be over at that table, I guess." She left, ducking her head in what was now a familiar motion, causing her dark curls to fall over her face.

Hermione stood, then purposefully glanced over at Ron's essay and loudly tutted. "Oh, Ron."

The redhead sighed deeply then looked up at her. "What?"

"You've made it through eight inches and you haven't even referenced Dedrick's Theorem yet," she told him. "I know I said I wasn't going to help you with this essay, but I don't want to see you fail."

The look on Ron's face was somewhere between annoyance and hesitant gratitude. "And where could I find this Dedrick's Theorem?" he asked warily, unsure if Hermione would help or just give more unhelpful hints.

Luckily for him, Hermione wanted him to both succeed and leave the table for a minute. " _An Advanced Transfiguration Magicke_ " she responded. "Harry, you probably need it too. There are a few copies in the stacks."

Groaning, both boys rose and headed to the wall opposite their table. With their backs to the table, and Hermione gone to return the Inferi book, only Marietta would have a good view of the table, her quills, and Draco's actions.

The walk through the familiar stacks felt oddly final – Hermione couldn't shake a sense that she was too confident. W _e've planned this to a tee_ , she reminded herself. _We've planned for everything_. Almost robotically she handed the book back to Madam Pince, explained that she would give it to Marietta, and wandered back to the table.

Harry and Ron both had their heads buried in their new books, small frowns on each of their faces. Marietta was sitting alone at her table, a larger frown on hers. "Here," Hermione said, handing her the book. Part of her dared the girl to say something, anything about what she had just seen. "Anything else?"

But no – the glare Marietta gave Hermione even as she accepted the book was a look of pure malice. Intended or not, Hermione Granger had truly made an enemy of Marietta Edgecombe. Normally Hermione was able to dismiss the niggling feeling of guilt, but at the realization that this teenager wouldn't lift a finger to save her from something suspicious – whether she thought it was a nasty prank Draco was playing or truly a poisoning – was jarring.

"Fine," Hermione huffed, turning back to her own table. There lay her quills, each with a new oily sheen on them. Just a few drops would have done it – she knew Draco would have been able to work fast. With only a moment of hesitation, Hermione picked up one of the quills, twirling it through her fingers. A faintly sweet smell rose from the quill.

So much had just happened – Hermione slipped the Charms book into her book bag, feeling a tinge of excitement. Finally, a lead! She could use this time to plan fruitfully, designing a way to use this opal necklace to free Harry from his Horcrux.

She went back to work, scratching out a few words on her parchment, putting off what she knew must happen. The procrastination wasn't just bothering her –Harry flicked his eyes over to her every few seconds, afraid of missing what would happen. Hermione shook her head- she wouldn't do anything until Draco stood to leave. He would disappear into the stacks, then loop around to watch, so that the Dark Lord would be able to see Hermione collapsing in his memories.

It happened a few minutes later. The blond Slytherin closed his books sharply, then abruptly left. Hermione's heart leapt into her throat.

Hermione kicked Harry lightly under the table, warning him. Then, with a deep breath, she put the tainted quill in her mouth, noticing a certain numbing sweetness spreading over her tongue immediately. It reminded her, oddly enough, of being in her parent's dentist's chair, and having the sharp pain of a numbing shot before having a cavity removed. Tears welled in her eyes with missing her parents, and she tried to raise a hand to wipe them. Her fingers twitched, but that was all.

Her eyes frozen open, Hermione could do nothing but watch as Ron threw his quill down in frustration, then reached toward hers. "Can I use this, Hermione? Mine's spell-check thing isn't working again." He picked it up, then sniffed. "Did you dip it in something? Is that why you're always sucking these things?"

Her scream was muffled as Ron gave the quill another sniff, and then put it in his mouth.

* * *

Severus vaguely wished he still smoked, that he had something to occupy his hands during such a boring evening of watching Scrimgeour. Hermione would kill him, though. He had mentioned it to her, once, he remembered. The look of disgust on her face – " _yellow_ teeth, Severus. _Yellow._ " – had given him pause. There were some things a Muggleborn daughter of dentists would not compromise on, and it appeared the magical alternation of teeth was one of those things.

Suddenly, the Dark Mark on his arm burned. Severus was prepared – the only sign of the pain was a slight tightening of his abdominal muscles. He was prepared for the second searing pain when it ripped through his arm, sending his heartbeat up. The Dark Lord was calling his followers to him.

He counted down the time.

The time of the burn – Draco, pressing his index finger to the mark burned onto his own skin, heart beating fast, knowing that the deed was done. Hermione would be paralyzed, almost instantly. Her mouth would go numb, her extremities would not obey her commands.

Thirty seconds in – those who were weak might retch as they felt the pull in their bellies as their Mark ordered them to Apparate to his side. Those who weren't doing anything would Apparate to him immediately. Those who were within Anti-Apparition wards would feel a dull ache in their arms until they did so. It was the Dark Lord's way of ensuring that his followers returned to him later to account for their tardiness. Hermione's heartbeat would begin to slow, her breathing to stutter.

One minute in – figures cloaked in darkness would begin to appear before the Dark Lord's throne, head bowed. When those heads were raised, the white mask of the Death Eaters would cover their visages. Silently, bowels churning with fear, they would wait to know why they had been summoned. At this point, Harry should have forced the bezoar down Hermione's throat, forcing her to swallow, and she would abruptly plateau.

Five minutes in – Draco would be halfway down a secret passage to Hogsmeade, ready to Apparate to the Dark Lord's side the moment he passed through the Anti-Apparition wards. He would be taking the time, Severus hoped, to steady his mind, hide all of the late-night conversations with Severus and Hermione deep in his mind, deep enough the Dark Lord would not find them. He would be focusing on his hatred of Hermione, drawing on those real emotions to mask his trepidation. He would be cloaking himself in feelings of victory, instead of terror. At five minutes, the Death Eaters who would have needed a moment to slink away from whatever responsibilities they were bound to would have slunk away. Hermione would be in the Hospital Wing, or so he hoped. Someone would have sent for Slughorn, who would be vibrating with excitement, dressed in his most luxurious smoking gown, thrilled to play the hero.

Fifteen minutes in – Draco would be kneeling in front of the Dark Lord, recounting his triumph. Those red, reptilian eyes would be gleaming in joy. When he smiled, bestowing his favor, the throne room would erupt into cheers, and the revelry would begin. Hopefully, then, Yaxley would slip away, run to find his lover in the midst of the chaos. Hermione would be still as death in her bed at the Hospital Wing, life fading beat by beat as Slughorn pretended to seek a cure.

The minutes pressed on him beat by beat, the seconds dragging out and goading his thoughts to panic. Through it all, Severus' breathing remained steady and his hand loosely holding his wand. Other, weaker men might have let internal stress show in their body, but Severus had firmer control of his mind than that. Each breath in was slow and intentional. The only sign of his worry was a slight tightening of his jaw, the slightly faster beating of his heart. His mind kept jumping to the way Hermione had looked at him the last time he had kissed her.

They had planned for every eventuality, but… there was always a twist of fate. Always, always.

A sharp pop sounded as Yaxley's gaunt form split the air, twenty-seven minutes after Severus' Dark Mark had burned for the first time. He was still in his Death Eater's robes, although he had taken the time to remove the mask. His face was beaded with sweat and his thin moustache was damp and stringy.

Scrimgeour had stood to greet his lover, fear and worry in his eyes. "Corban," he said, his voice tight. "Thank-"

"Avada Kedavra," Yaxley said quietly.

Before his last words were out of his mouth, Scrimgeour fell to the ground with a thud.

Yaxley twisted on his heel to Apparate away, only to be halted by the Anti-Apparition wards that Severus had raised the moment the man had appeared. There was a snarl of frustration from the thin man, an animal sound that reflected his immediate realization that he was trapped.

Without Disillusioning himself, Severus Stunned Yaxley and bound him with ropes. He pulled out a small wallet, that could open to an alarming size and conceal a package even as large as Yaxley. Working quickly, he Levitated the man into the open wallet, then folded it up and put it back in his pocket. He would search the man for any dangerous charms or protective spells when he arrived in the dungeons. The house-elves, those he trusted, would have prepared the necessary room for Yaxley, where the gemstones embedded in the walls and in the bracelets he would place on the man would drain his magic away.

It would be a horrific feeling, for a witch or wizard. Severus – or Hermione, least – was not cruel. He would be kept unconscious, barring when they needed to wake him to riffle through his memories, ensuring they had not missed a vital piece of information that would be valuable to the Order. Then he would be allowed to sink into sleep – at least until Hermione needed him for her experiments.

Once the Death Eater had been taken care of, the problem of the former, dead, Minister for Magic remained.

In death, Scrimgeour's face was drawn and haggard, and his red mane looked even more straw-like than it had before. Severus sighed. He pulled Scrimgeor's wand from his pocket, then pointed it at the dead man and cast the Killing Spell once more. He then wiped it clean of his prints, then used his own wand to manoeuvre Scimgeour into a seated position, with his own wand gripped loosely in his palm.

Severus then cast his Patronus, mind flitting to the feel of Hermione curled into his side warm in his bed, fully intending to send Kinglsey- who had agreed to be waiting alone for a signal - a message about the man on the park bench. However, the sinuous shape that poured out of his wand and awaited his command, tail twitching, was not the doe he was accustomed to seeing. He was in such shock, that the lithe animal faded into nothing before he could give it his intended message.

"Fuck me," he growled, a mixture of fear and trepidation in the pit of his stomach. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, _bugger_." Well. This was something to handle later.

He flicked his wand again, intoning, " _Expecto Patronum_ ," while focusing on his happiest memory of Lily. Still, a large - if faded- jungle cat appeared before him, waiting expectantly. "Bugger," he said again. He cast the spell one more time, allowing his thoughts to drift to a fond memory of Hermione, asleep on his couch. His Patronus appeared before him again, strong and bright. "It's Snape – yes I know, it's changed. Scrimgeour is dead in that miserable excuse for a park off of Cotswold Street. I put a notice-me-not charm on it, made it look like he did it himself. Yaxley is with me. Scrimgeour is your problem now."

The white animal streaked off into the dark night, and Severus turned on his heel to Apparate back to Hogsmeade. He would have a long walk back to the castle, during which he could mull on this new development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 58. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos, much appreciated, as always. Next chapter will be up next Saturday.


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> Um... Didn't feel like I should have to say this, but if you are an 'impressionable child" please reconsider reading this story? It is definitely labeled as 18+ and you should have a big warning come up before reading. If you personally feel like you are mature enough to read this story, based on the content warnings I've given above, that is not my responsibility. Everyone has the individual responsibility to monitor their internet consumption, and content creators have the responsibility to accurately label and tag such that you can make responsible choices. I update tags as things come up in the story, so pay attention.
> 
> Why do I say this? Because I've been getting more than 0 people complaining about me being disgusting and having "impressionable kids reading this who romanticize how fucked up and unhealthy this really is." And that's annoying. I've been in fandom for many years (since I was an impressionable kid myself) and... yeah this is not a view I ascribe to. If you are upset with the direction the story is going the little x in the corner of your tab is there for a reason. 
> 
> If you are enjoying the story direction, here's another chapter!

**_Chapter 59_ **

Harry Potter sat in the office of Severus Snape feeling exhausted, overwhelmed, and defiant. His blood was still pumping in his ears and the Time-Turner that Hermione had slipped into his hand in the Gryffindor Common Room earlier felt slightly warm against his chest. He had no idea how to feel about the man before him, still and intense, almost dangerous with contained energy. Most people would have thought the Potions Master was merely not moving – but Harry Potter had only made it this far with a finely tuned sense for danger.

Severus Snape stared at the boy – man? – sitting sullenly in the single chair in his office with mixed feelings of relief and the same old sense of resentment, frustration, and desperation. He didn't  _ want _ to  _ like _ Harry Potter of all people. Need him to save the world? Frustrating in that it was out of his hands, frustrating that it was Potter, frustrating that it seemed writ in the fates of the Wizarding World, but he could accept it, large and bitter a pill as it was. Need to face him in class, those Lily-green eyes staring out of James Potter's face? A faint old hurt, nothing more. Need to save his ungrateful arse once again? Understandable, expected even, despite the frequent risk to his own life.

But to look at this half-grown wizard he half-hated in front of him and know,  _ know _ , that it was him that he had to thank for saving the woman that was rapidly meaning more to him than he meant to himself… it was distinctly uncomfortable. He didn't quite know what to say.

Potter broke the silence. "Um – did you need me for something more? Um, professor?" He was tense as well, preparing to be eviscerated with words, threatened with expulsion, anything but-

"Thank you." The words ground out of him, and Severus felt himself glaring at Potter as he said them.

Those green eyes went wide behind smudged round glasses. "Uh - You're wel-"

"I need to know exactly what happened," Severus interrupted smoothly, as if he had never thanked him in the first place. "The Headmaster will want a report, and as H- Miss Granger is still indisposed, and, I believe, was unconscious through the entire night, it has to come from you.  _ Don't _ leave any details out."

This was more like the Snape that Harry knew. He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. "Why can't I tell the Headmaster myself? Professor."

Snape's glare intensified. "Because I am going to be monitoring the care of both Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, so I  _ also _ need to know what happened, you halfwit." Ah. It felt better to be back on familiar ground with the boy.

Anger flashed in Harry's eyes, but he gave in. "So, we were in the Library, and we were waiting for Malfoy to get Hermione's quill. Hermione sent me and Ron off to get a book so that he would be able to do it without anyone seeing. When we got back, Hermione picked up the quill and – um, she uh kicked me so that I would know it was happening." He hesitated briefly. "She put down the quill and just went still. Then Ron reached over and grabbed it –"

"And you didn't try to stop him?" Severus asked, his voice dripping with annoyance. "Did you want to lose the liability, Potter, or –"

"You can stop insulting me any moment, now, Professor," Harry spat. When he saw the flash of warning in Snape's eyes, he visibly tried to rein his anger in. "No, I didn't realize he was going to put it in his mouth. I tried knocking it out, but it touched his mouth and he went still, then Hermione started foaming at the mouth, and I was – I was stuck."

Severus felt his heart beating fast as Potter recounted the tale. "You only had one bezoar."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Just one. And I knew that I had to make a decision, but I couldn't decide who to give it to, but Hermione had told me that it was a matter of seconds that I had to get it in her. So – so I used the one I had and then Ginny came running over."

This was both a surprise and not, thought Severus. The youngest Weasley was nothing like most of her brothers - none of the brashness of Bill or Charlie, none of the sheer potential for destruction of the twins, little of the studiousness of the swot who had become prefect, and apparently none of the idiocy of the annoyance Potter insisted on dragging around. As a man who prided himself on reading people and doing it well, Severus was surprised to find that he had spent little time reflecting on Ginny Weasley in the last few years. He had known she was intended to be a match for Potter, and the last time he had thought of her, Severus had dismissed her as shy and damaged by absorbing too much of the Dark Lord's mind as a child. He would have to ask Hermione about the girl when she was well.

"And she had brought you the other bezoar you used on Mr. Weasley?" Severus asked. There was a thread of danger in his tone – he wanted to know what Potter's choice had been.

There was something tight in Harry's face as he nodded. "I had given the one I had to Hermione," he admitted, guilt etched in the clench of his hands. "I didn't know what to do about Ron, and then Ginny came over and shoved it in my hand and said that – um that you had given to her and ordered her to run to the library like her life depended on it. How did you know it was going to be both of them?"

Ah. That detail Potter had almost neglected. "I didn't," bit out Severus. "I'm going to need that Time Turner, apparently." Sometimes, basing his interactions with students off of talking to Hermione made everyone seem unbearably slow. "I have a bezoar to deliver."

Realization crashed onto Potter's features – Hermione was really going to have to work with him on how to keep every stray thought he had from telegraphing itself on his face. "Oh. Um – yeah. Uh, Hermione has this whole lecture about time-streams and not having them cross-"

Severus rolled his eyes and stood, thrusting out a hand. "Give it, Potter. I was the one who helped Miss Granger figure out how to avoid her own time streams in the first place."

Hesitantly, Harry handed over the Time-Turner, the gold chain winking in his hand. "Did – I made the right choice, didn't I?"

"Yes," Severus said immediately. "Mr. Weasley is your friend, but Hermione is vital to the war effort. If she died we would be severely damaged. The only other people whose deaths would cause such disarray would be yours. If she died, the work of the Order would grind to a halt, and you would be unprotected."  _ And I would be lost. _

There was wonder in Potter's eyes. "How – how long has she been doing so much?" There, a furrow in the brow as he thought and thought and thought…

"You should ask her," Severus said shortly.

A knock sounded at the door.

Severus drew his wand, flicking it to open the door quickly. Tonks stood there. Seeing Harry, she gave a quick wave.

"Wotcher, Harry. Professor Snape. The Headmaster asked that I escort Harry to Gryffindor Tower and make sure he's secure for the night." She shuffled from foot to foot. "Is Hermione going to be ok? And Ronald?"

Severus nodded brusquely. "They should both be fine. Potter somehow had the wherewithal to carry around bezoars. Take him, I have work to do."

Harry scowled and followed Tonks out the door. As it closed, Severus could hear him asking, "Um – do I really need an escort back to the Common Room?"

Idiot boy. He didn't realize he normally did have a shadow, one who made sure he was always more or less safe and sound. Severus sighed and turned to his storeroom, opening a small box to remove a wrinkled stone. It seemed he had some time travelling to do.

* * *

Hermione felt her consciousness slowly rising out of the dark. The smell of Pepper-Up potions, crisp, laundered sheets, and the quiet chill in the air swiftly let her know that she was in Hospital Wing. Even now, after having lived in the magical world for years, Hermione was still surprised that the Hospital Wing didn't smell like alcohol and antiseptics, like harsh muggle chemicals. House-elves had no need for such things when they cleaned by magic, when messes could just vanish.

Her limbs felt sluggish and her mouth full of cotton. Otherwise, she felt quite well for someone who had just been poisoned. She licked her lips drily and thought of water, sighing at the thought of sitting up long enough to get some.

A shape shifted to her left, setting her heartbeat racing before she realized it was merely Severus. His lanky form rustled in the darkness before a swish of his wand closed the curtains around her bed and lit a candle. Another wave and a quiet murmur ensured they would not be overheard. "Awake?" he asked in a low voice.

"Obviously," she drawled – although the effect was ruined by the rasp of her voice. "Water?"

"Of course," said Severus. Someone, either Madam Pomfrey or the house-elves had left a pitcher of water on the side table along with tall glasses. He filled one quietly, the pouring of water echoing in the quiet of the Hospital Wing, then helped her sit up and drink, sitting on her bed to do so.

The warmth of his arm around her and the smoky smell of his robes made a feeling of deep comfort settle around Hermione. He was safety and warmth, the smell of potions and his aftershave, the man she loved.

"You look happy for someone who's been asleep for nearly two days," he said, giving her a hint of a crooked smile.

She smiled up at him, warmth in her eyes. "You make me happy. Two days?"

Severus made sure that her pillows were supporting her, and let her go, settling on the bed next to Hermione. "Two days," he said solemnly. "There was an unforeseen… circumstance." His brow wrinkled, betraying the tension in his body.

Hermione frowned, racking her memories. Everything had gone perfectly up until – "Ron?" she asked with trepidation, worry curling in her belly. "Is he…?"

"Alive," Severus said hurriedly. "He's alive. He hasn't woken up yet, but we expect he will soon. You were smart to give your Time-Turner to Potter – I was able to get a bezoar to Miss Weasley, and then she was able to get it to the library in time to save her brother. Both Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley have been lauded as heroes, whose quick thinking saved the day. Slughorn produced the antidote that I had brewed, and split the dosage between the two of you while I used the Time-Turner to go back and produce more of it. It was a close call, and it took longer to give you the antidote than I had hoped for, but all should be well." To reassure her, he stroked her leg through the bedclothes, grounding both of them through touch.

Hermione yawned and stretched. "Two days… that sets us back a bit. Did you get Yaxley? How many days has it been for you?" Looking closely at him, she could see dark circles under his eyes and grease in his hair – it had been a long two days for Severus.

"It's been five days or so for me. Yaxley is waiting for you in the dungeons. The house-elves found us a space and were promptly Obliviated – with their full permission, before you give me that look," Severus said quickly. To anyone else his voice sounded harsh, but it made Hermione smile fondly. "We are going to keep you and Weasley out of the public view for at least two weeks. The story will be that we have moved you to private rooms here in the Hospital Wing, and Potter and the other Weasley will be by to visit your bedsides to keep up the fiction. Of course, we could always keep Mr. Weasley in a real coma, just to keep up the pretence…"

Hermione flapped a hand at him. "It will be fine. Ron will enjoy a vacation from schoolwork. He can stay at Safe House Three for a while and feel useful. He's been chafing recently, with Harry and I having a bigger role in the Order. We want to keep the bonds between him and Harry strong, not strain them with anything unnecessary."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Feel useful or  _ be _ useful?"

"I won't tell you to be nice because I don't like wasting my breath," Hermione said tartly. "Be useful. Ron isn't useless – he just doesn't focus well or apply himself because he doesn't see the point when he's already been overshadowed by everyone else. He's a decent tactician – we'll ask him to review our contingency plans and to expand the ones that have to do with Hogwarts because he's familiar with the terrain. He was already going to try to make a plan for the DA to get the younger students out of Hogwarts if we're attacked, so he can work on that."

Seeing her annoyance, Severus reached over and took Hermione's hand, swiping his thumb over the back of her hand. "And where will you stay for the next two weeks?" A prickle of anxiety curled in his belly. Over the last five days, thinking of what had to be done with Yaxley, he had routinely thought of possibilities for how it could work.

Hermione flexed her hand where Severus had suddenly gripped it hard and gave him a knowing look. "Did you have an idea?" She brought her other hand up to caress his cheek. He felt like blushing or looking away.

"The chamber Yaxley is being held in is in the dungeons," he said slowly. "Your set of extra rooms is close to Gryffindor Tower, and roaming the halls disguised when you are meant to be in a coma in the Hospital Wing would, perhaps, not be prudent. Not that your skills with disguise aren't good, but-"

"Spit it out, Severus," Hermione said, wry humor in her voice.

He gave her an exasperated look, one that she knew meant that he wanted desperately to hide from her. "My new quarters, despite being in a tower, have a secret passage that leads the dungeons," he said quickly. "As Head of Slytherin, I need to be able to get there quickly. The exit is close to where Yaxley is being kept. And I have a direct Floo line to Safe House Three."

Hermione arched a brow at him, silently enjoying his flustered rambling. It was odd, to see Severus so unsure, so hesitant. "Was there a question there?"

Severus scowled blackly at Hermione. "Perhaps there was an insinuation," he muttered.

"You can ask, you know," Hermione said, leaning forward and caressing his face once more. The roughness of his stubble made her want to smile. "My answer will probably be yes."

The scowl on his face only deepened. " _ If _ you think it is prudent or convenient, you are more than welcome to stay in my chambers. With me." He found it difficult to look at her, staring resolutely at the corner of the bed frame.

Those damnably soft hands on his cheek turned his gaze to the woman in front of him. "If you're  _ asking _ me to stay with you then my answer is yes, Severus. If you are merely insinuating…"

A bubble of confidence of joy grew in his chest, a feeling that made him lighter, that made him want to duck his head like a boy. "Please stay with me, Hermione," he murmured, sliding closer to her.

She laughed, a low ripple. "It's easier when you know I've already said yes, isn't it?" Her hand cupped his cheek, warm and kind.

"Yes," he agreed, leaning in to brush her lips with a kiss. "I'm looking forward to it."

She returned the kiss chastely, aware she had not brushed her teeth in two days. "Tomorrow I'll take Ron over to Safe House Three. Can you get permission from Dumbledore for me to take Harry as well? I'll use the Time-Turner so no one notices him missing. I think it's important for him to be part of telling Ron more of my role."

Severus frowned at her. "Is the Time-Turner necessary? I'm worried it's being used too much, Hermione."

Hermione considered for a moment, running her fingers over the back of his hand. "If he has an excuse, I suppose. But it would be a hard pill to swallow for him to have detention right after saving two lives, wouldn't it?"

"I'm the evil bat of the dungeons," Severus drawled, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "Everyone knows I don't give two shits."

"Very well then," said Hermione, laughing quietly. "Can you find a way to ask Harry to meet us here in the morning?"

* * *

The next morning, a quiet and sleepy Sunday, Hermione awoke in her hospital bed once more, this time, to sunlight streaming in through the arched windows. She yawned widely, and smiled to herself, still able to faintly smell the scent of Severus's aftershave on her pillows. As if on an alarm, Madam Pomfrey bustled in, pulling aside the curtains briskly.

"You've made far too much of a habit of ending up here," she told Hermione sternly. "You need to be  _ careful _ , Miss Granger." While her voice was tart, her face was soft. Madam Pomfrey was used to being a keeper of secrets – her examinations meant that she knew exactly how old Hermione was and how many times Severus had been injured. She always just healed them, without a word to anyone else.

Hermione sat up, yawning again. "At least it isn't Harry this time?" she offered, giving the older woman a sheepish grin.

Poppy Pomfrey tsked at her as she pulled out her wand and began running diagnostic tests. "It looks like you're all in the clear, love," she said, patting Hermione's hand gently. "The Headmaster let me in on our little plan. Mr. Weasley awoke last night as well, but he's still sleeping this morning." Hermione noticed her eyes flick to the seat where Severus had been waiting for her to wake up. "I've closed off this part of the Hospital Wing, so the poor fourth years who grew themselves some antlers won't notice you and Mr. Weasley up and about. The house-elves will bring you some breakfast shortly, and then I believe you are to meet with Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Tonks in my office. Don't let me see you again too soon, my dear." With a brief smile, Madam Pomfrey left to tend to Ron.

She wondered how much the Healer knew. Severus was good at controlling his emotions and keeping his comings and goings private – but had she noticed Severus coming to sit with her? Uncomfortable at the thought, Hermione mulled it over while she dressed, then stood at the mirror to apply the Glamours that had slipped while she was unconscious. Someone, probably Ginny, had left her a folded pile of clothes, not her usual school uniforms. While there was nothing like a shower after being unconscious for a few days, Hermione applied cleaning spells. It wouldn't do to be found upright and walking to the student baths when she was supposed to be unconscious.

Hermione knew that what she had with Severus had to be secret, at least for now. He was her professor, for Merlin's sake, and if the wrong people found out while she was still in school there would be an uproar. But would they keep it a secret forever?

Part of her, she had to admit, wanted it to be a secret forever. However, she wasn't sure if that was out of a gut-deep knowledge that if the Dark Lord discovered that Severus had feelings for her, that her Potions Master would die a long and painful death, or if it was out of something else. A need for privacy? A desire for something of her own? A wish to avoid the judging eyes of those around her?

But there was also a small thrill that ran down her spine at the thought of walking down a public street hand in hand with Severus. Of it being assumed that she would care for him if injured, or that he would, of course, sit by her side as she recovered. Of the world knowing that he was loved, that someone thought Severus worth loving openly and proudly. Perhaps that would change a few minds – Hermione wouldn't hold her breath, but she could dream.

It could mean the end of his career – but Severus hated teaching. Perhaps, when the war was over…

And that was where these daydreams always ended. The war would have to be over first. Hermione sighed, and began wrangling her bushy hair into a braid. Cleaning spells always infuriated her fussy curls, and it would take something close to a metric ton of conditioner to get them to smooth out and calm down later.

A sharp crack heralded Dobby popping into the room with a laden breakfast tray. He gave a squeak of joy when he saw Hermione, and then almost fainted when Harry poked his head around the curtains. It took a moment to insist that the Great Harry Potter Sir didn't need any additional breakfast, but soon Harry and Hermione were alone in the curtained-off space.

Harry crushed Hermione in a hug as soon as Dobby was gone, squeezing her tightly. Hermione returned the embrace, feeling tears rising to her eyes.

"You must have been so scared," she said quietly, feeling his heart beating rapidly against her chest. Harry was too damn skinny still. "But you did a magnificent job."

"I almost lost you and Ron," Harry said thickly. "This was a stupid plan and we should never do anything like it again."

Hermione pulled away to sit on the bed, patting the space next to her. Harry sighed, but sat down. "It worked," she said seriously. "I'll fill you in when we go to our next location, but it worked."

"Next location?" asked Harry. "Dumbledore just told me to come here this morning and to tell everyone I had detention with Snape."

Hermione raised a finger, then checked the anti-eavesdropping spells that had been cast the night before. She added a few more before answering. "Just wanted to make sure it's all good. We decided last night that we'd take Ron to Safe House Three this morning. I think it might be time he learns some more of what's happening with the Order." She watched Harry carefully for how he would react.

It was clear he was anxious – Harry worried at his lip for a moment, then reached up to remove his glasses and clean them on his robes, the Muggle way. "I'm worried he's going to be pissed as hell at us," Harry said quietly. "And… I think he’s right to be."

"Me too," admitted Hermione. "If we had let him in on the plan, he would have never been so close to getting hurt. And we've been keeping a lot from him. You've known about my place in the Order since the Ministry. He's going to feel like we were deliberately keeping him out of the loop." She mulled it over for a second. "We do have a few excuses. His mother is going to be furious that we told him. We could use our fear of the wrath of Molly Weasley."

Harry looked at her strangely. "Or we could just tell him the truth." There was an unspoken accusation behind his words – that she was becoming more and more Slytherin to him every day.

"Or we could tell the truth," Hermione conceded awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm just so used to – well, to hiding all of this. The more people who know…"

"Ron isn't 'people,' Hermione," Harry said, but there was kindness in his green eyes. "He'll be hurt but we have been keeping secrets from him."

He was right, and Hermione knew it. "We should give him more credit," she said. "Hopefully he'll be able to respond well."

After eating, Harry slipped out of the curtained off area, then motioned to Hermione that it was safe to emerge. Tonks was waiting in Madam Pomfrey's office, enjoying a cup of tea with the matron. She gave Hermione a friendly hug, nearly knocking the teapot from Madam Pomfrey's desk to the floor in the process.

Tonks was updating Hermione as the responses of the Ministry when Ron entered with Harry.

He looked to be in worse shape than she did – pale as milk, with his freckles standing out stark from his skin. Ron had always been tall and lanky, but he looked skinny and tired. He ate like a hippogriff, but that was probably just to break even every day, Hermione realized. Two days of magical nutrition had not done him any favors.

Ron crossed the room to Hermione and enfolded her in a bear hug, much like Harry had done. Hermione clung to him tightly as well, the drop in her stomach reminding her that as much as Ron drove her crazy, she would be devastated if he had died.

"How much did Harry fill in?" she asked, ruffling his hair fondly as she pulled away.

Ron glanced at Harry, a small frown on his face. "Not much," he said pointedly. "Said we had to Floo somewhere first?"

Tonks stood up, nodding. "Dumbledore's orders," she said cheerfully. "Convalescing at Safe House Three. This Floo has been given special permissions, just for this morning."

Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at the banked fire. It erupted into frames taller than Hermione's head a moment later, filling the almost six-foot-high fireplace. Wizarding fireplaces had looked so odd to Hermione before she had learned about Flooing – now it was easy to identify which fireplaces were attached to the Floo Network by the height. It made sense for Madam Pomfrey to have a Floo of her own in her office – she often consulted with St Mungos, and if additional Healers or anxious parents were required, it was easier to Floo directly to the Hospital Wing in an emergency.

Hermione stepped up to the flames first, accepting a pinch of Floo powder from Madam Pomfrey. The moment it hit the flames, emerald green light bathed her face. She stepped into the cool flames, and clearly said, "Lewis House!"

She was spinning through the fireplace, keeping her arms well tucked in. The last thing she wanted was a burned hand from someone else's fire. Hermione almost fell into the well-kept kitchen of the illusion, where a bored Elphias Doge was reading  _ The Daily Prophet _ and sipping a cup of tea. He was quick on the draw, but Hermione was quicker. She Vanished the cup of tea before he had squeaked out a request for the passcode.

_ Note to self – take him off rotation here, _ she thought.  _ Might be getting a bit slow.  _ "A death by fire is merely a new beginning," she told him. "We're expecting a few more." He looked a bit dejected as he raised his cup of tea halfway to his mouth, then realized it was empty.

Soon, Harry, Ron, and then Tonks had tumbled through the fireplace. Ron looked a bit woozy – Hermione wasn't surprised. Flooing or Apparating to the illusion that guarded Safe House Three was always difficult – and Apparating directly to the Safe House was even worse.

Doge pointed his wand at Tonks and asked a few verification questions, which she answered easily, before letting them through. Hermione let Tonks explain how the wardrobe worked, letting Harry and Ron go in front of her. With a brisk nod to Doge, she passed through the back of the wardrobe, something tight clutching at her chest as the familiar feeling of fur coats tickling her nose made her smile with something like homesickness. Safe House Three was as close to a safe space as she had in the world, with her parent's home a soot-filled hole in the ground. Her bedroom in Safe House Three was her office for the Order and her summer hide-away with Severus, warded to her exact specifications.

When she emerged, Ron and Harry were being greeted by a surprised Cedric. Hermione winced – it appeared that they had all forgotten to let him know.

"Hermione!" Cedric said cheerfully. "What's all this?" He looked like he was considering crossing the room to shake her hand or give her a hug, but thought better of it.

Hermione gave him a brief smile, her gut stirring uneasily in anticipation of the conversation she and Harry would have to have with Ron. "Hey, Cedric. Ron is going to be staying here for a while with you – do you think Minny or Dobby could get the room opposite yours ready for him?"

Dobby popped into the sitting room with a loud crack. "Dobby is already getting the room ready!" he announced proudly. "And fetched books and clothings from Gryffindor Tower!"

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said, smiling at the elf fondly. "Remind me to get you an extra pair of socks for Christmas."

While Harry and Ron chatted with the elf, Hermione drew Tonks aside and gestured to Cedric. "We're going to tell Ron about my role in the Order now," she murmured. "I don't know what his reaction is going to be. If he storms down here, don't let him leave."

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Little faith?" she asked. "He is a Weasley."

Crossing her arms, Hermione frowned slightly. "He is," she admitted. "Precautions, that's all."

Harry suggested going up to see Ron's room with a significant glance at Hermione.  _ I really need to teach him subtly _ , she thought ruefully as she nodded. They walked, rather than bounded, up the stairs – Hermione found that to her surprise, she was winded when they reached the top. She shuddered – she hated poisons.

Ron's room faced to the east, and the rising morning sun was shining brightly on the wooden floorboards. Much like Hermione's room, it was tucked into the eaves of the roof, with a slanted ceiling and a desk nestled under it. It was decorated in cool shades of blue and cream – the only hint of Chudley Cannon Orange was from a scarf Dobby had hung from the back of a chair. Ron crossed the room to the dresser, pulling it open to find his clothes neatly folded.

"This is the life," he said, slightly awestruck. He turned, and flopped down on the bed. "The life," he said again, a smile coming to his face.

Hermione pulled out her wand, and conjured two plush chairs for her and Harry to sit in while they talked. Ron gaped at her.

"Hermione! You can't use magic outside of school!" he protested.

Hermione sank into her chair, feeling the tension in every line of her body. "I can use magic here," she said quietly. "Ron, Harry and I have something to tell you." She noticed that to her right, Harry visibly tensed as well.

To her surprise, Ron sat up and leaned forward, a serious expression on his still-pale face. "Yeah, I figured since you were up sooner you'd know more of what was going on. Harry said we've been out for two days!" Harry opened his mouth then closed it, looking toward Hermione. Ron noticed, and frowned. "What's going on?"

Hermione took in a huge breath. "Let me put up some wards first." She cast everything she could think of, some necessary, some just to buy time. They would have to tread very carefully with Ron – he was a loyal friend, except when his ego was bruised. This could be very bruising to his ego indeed.

Finally, she sighed. Ron was already eyeing her suspiciously. "We have to have a difficult conversation, Ron," she said haltingly. "What I'm afraid of is you jumping to conclusions, feeling personally hurt, or storming out and not giving us a chance to talk."

Ron looked increasingly alarmed. "Don't – don't tell me you and Harry are dating now," he said, shock on his face. "Harry, mate –"

"No!" Hermione and Harry both exclaimed at the same time, then looked at each other and laughed.

"See, Ron, this is what Hermione means about you jumping to conclusions," Harry said, raising an eyebrow at Ron. "Let her finish."

Ron pressed a hand to his chest. "Nearly gave me a bloody heart attack," he muttered. "Sorry, Hermione."

Hermione folded her hands in her lap. "What I'd like you to do is to hear me and Harry out, and then let us know how you feel about all of the information that we have to give you," she continued, as if the interruption hadn't happened. She was glad it had – some of the tension in the air had evaporated. "I'm expecting you might be a bit upset with us, and you have every right to be, and we want to work on making it right."

"Blimey, Hermione," said Ron, rubbing the back of his head. "Spit it out."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I've been a member of the Order since the end of our fourth year," she said slowly. "But since our second year, I've been coming here every summer to get extra training so that if something happened – like the graveyard or the Ministry – we would have a better chance of surviving. I've been using the Time-Turner a lot more, and now I'm nearly four years older than I appear to be. I'm not seventeen, I'm probably nearly twenty-one by now with all of the extra time." Ron's face was still, but his hands were clenched. She steeled herself, and continued. "Dumbledore said it had to be a secret – that if Death Eaters or the Dark Lord attacked, no one would suspect the tiny Muggleborn girl could be a threat."

Harry leaned forward, green eyes earnest. "Hermione told me right before we went into the Ministry," he said, anxiety in his voice. "She made me swear to listen to her, but she didn't really have time to explain. She came over to my house over the summer break, and gave me more details. I was inducted into the Order over the summer. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it was because we couldn't."

Ron looked as though he was boiling. "So you've both been keeping secrets from me," he spat, real anger in his voice. "What the hell? Is – is this punishment for fourth-year? For me not believing you, Harry?" There was a thread of fear in his voice as well, one that Hermione privately thought was well deserved.

"Of course not!" Harry exclaimed, looking hurt. Hermione's breath caught in her throat – Harry was on the verge of getting angry.

"Ron, it wasn't time for you to know," she interjected. "For one, your mother didn't want you involved in any Order business until you were 17. We're a ways away from March, but we think it's important to tell you now. I was only inducted into the Order because I started helping with intelligence reports. Harry was only inducted because we forced Dumbledore's hand."

Harry looked at Hermione, then back at Ron. "But we think you need to know now," he said firmly. "Because things are changing, Ron. And if you can forgive us for keeping secrets from you, we want you to be part of the change we want to bring to the Order."

There was a vulnerability in Ron's face, in the intense worry in his body. Hermione knew that he was facing so many of his fears – the fear of being left behind, the fear of no longer being Harry's best friend, the fear of not being good enough. With a glance over to Harry, she saw that he could see it too.

"Hermione, could I speak with Ron for a second?" Harry asked quietly. "Alone?"

Part of Hermione's heart ached with the same fear that Ron was feeling. Harry was a leader, Harry was the most important person in the room at all times, Harry was her best friend. But she understood – Ron needed a kind of reassurance that she could not give him.

"Of course," she murmured. "I'll be in my office. Three doors down." Feeling small, she left the room and walked down the familiar hall to her bedroom and office. The wards hummed at her, as happy to see her as magic could be.

The slightly musty smell of a room that hadn't been touched in months hit Hermione in the face when she pushed open the door. She had begun warding the room so well that the house-elves couldn't get in as soon as she had started reading intelligence reports. A thin layer of dust had settled on furniture – Minny would have pulled her bat ears over her eyes to hide from the shame. Hermione cast a few spells wordlessly, Vanishing the dust and brightening the air. She settled into her desk chair and ran her fingers over the smooth wood. The overhead hutch was filled with small cubbyholes; she pulled a sheet of parchment from one and a fresh quill from another. Making a to-do list was in order – she had a precious two weeks to devote to her projects.

_ 1.Figure out how to Secret-Keep information, write to Charlotte. Consult with Flitwick if needed. _

_ 2.Experiment with soul entrapment. _

_ a.Use that necklace that DM had _

_ 3.Devise a way to get that thing out of his head. _

_ 4.Get the Hallows story planted. _

It was going to be a busy vacation.

She was writing furiously, doing Arithmantic formulae with the Fidelius Charm, when there was a quiet knock at her door. Hermione stilled, feeling anxiety form that familiar pit in her stomach. She pushed it down, and opened the door to a sheepish Ron.

"Can I come in?" he asked, not bothering to hide that he was peering around her.

Hermione nodded, gesturing at the chair Severus normally occupied. "Feeling better?" she asked hopefully.

Ron gave her a rueful look. "I feel like shit," he said honestly. "First, I'm tired as hell. Second, my best friends have been keeping massive secrets from me. And I'm also pissed as hell because I wasn't let in on a plan that almost killed me. But…I think maybe I kind of deserved it." His eyes were haunted in a way that she had often seen her own in the mirror, often seen Severus', often seen Harry's.

Hermione frowned at him, reaching over to touch his large hand. "You don't, Ron," she said gently.

"I do," he insisted. "I think… I think I've been able to be a child for longer than you and Harry have been able to, you know? Like, as soon as our first year Harry knew this was going to be his fight. And you and I knew we would be on his side. But…" he sighed heavily. "But you went and did what you do best and got over-prepared for it all and I did what I do best and stuck my head in the sand for as long as possible. Like it was homework." There was a ring of truth in his words, one that neither Hermione nor Ron could deny.

Hermione gave him a wry smile. "You always do quite well on the exams after you've had enough time to cram," she told him, patting his hand. "And if you don't have a problem looking over my notes, so to speak, in this circumstance, I'm sure you'll rise to the occasion."

The quiet praise made Ron square his shoulders and sit up straight. "What can I do?" he asked seriously. "I don't want to be a kid anymore. I want – I want to be part of this full-on."

Smoothly, Hermione called another piece of parchment to her with wandless magic and set quill to paper. "Let's draw you up a to-do list," she said in her primmest tone, aiming for a laugh. Ron gave her one, but didn't groan in the way he often did when it was homework. "First of all, you need to be inducted into the Order."

Ron winced. "My mum-"

"Your mum is only one of your parents," Hermione said, steel in her voice. "Molly Weasley is all bark and all bite. Your father on the other hand – he's a sensible man when it doesn't concern electricity. Get your father behind you, and your mother can scream all she wants in the Burrow."

Hermione frowned at her parchment, then used her wand to nudge  _ 1\. Order induction _ down the page and change the  _ 1 _ to a  _ 2\.  _ "No. Being part of the Order means being privy to secret information. Number one for you is to learn Occlumency."

She looked up and straight into his wide blue eyes, pushing past his feeble protest with more force than she needed, just so that he would register the attack. Instantly she was awash in his thoughts, swimming in those currents of shame and guilt and anger and earnest trying. She pulled out, not wanting to see the conversation that had occurred between him and Harry.

"You have no defenses," she told him briskly. "I'll work with you and Harry at the same time. Over the next two weeks, while I'm not here, I'll ask Cedric to help you out – he's quite good."

Ron looked ready to splutter at her, but cooled when she gave him a raised eyebrow. "You look like Snape when you do that," he said instead, a note of resignation in his voice. "What else?"

Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "Good. Over the next two weeks, we need to lay low because I need some time to work on some… special projects. I was supposed to be the only one 'indisposed,' but since you decided to join me, you get a brief vacation. Or rather, you get to do some work here at Safe House Three and start making yourself useful to the Order."

"But – shouldn't I be making myself useful to Harry?" asked Ron, furrowing his brow. "You know – getting ready for when it's the three of us-" He stopped when he saw Hermione's face and heaved yet another sigh. "I feel like you're going to tell me yet another thing that makes me feel like I'm twelve fucking years old."

Hermione shook her head. "I had to tell Harry this exact thing this summer if it makes you feel any better," she told him. "Ron, it can't ever be you, me, and Harry against the Dark Lord and all of his Death Eaters to save the world." She said it gently, knowing that yet another piece of that childhood innocence was chipping away. She declined to add 'like in a fairy tale or storybook' so that it felt less like treating him like he was twelve.

"There are hundreds of Death Eaters," she said, deadly serious. "Hundreds of adult witches and wizards out to protect the Dark Lord and his interests. Some of them are in-bred idiots with power fantasies, yes, but there are many more who are powerful, in more ways than one. He has a strong fighting force, a strong political force, and some of the most sadistic and innovative Dark spell casters and spell creators in Europe. If we look at people who are allied with him if not Marked, they number in the thousands. The Dark Lord is charismatic and strong, and represents a nativist, anti-Muggle sentiment that has had hundreds of years to brew in Europe. Three teenagers, no matter how highly skilled, cannot stand a chance of defeating him magically, or what he represents on a much larger level."

"So what do we do?" asked Ron bleakly. "We can't give up."

"No, we can't give up," Hermione agreed. "We have to fight him on as many levels. The Order is as much a political group – albeit a secret one for the moment – as a fighting group. We are trying to spread our influence to Europe – hence why it was such a success to snag a famous young Quidditch star like Viktor to our cause. As much rides on what we do after the final battle as what we do to prepare."

Ron nodded slowly. "So there is going to be a final battle?" he asked. "Is that where you and I come in?"

"We are part of all of it," Hermione said firmly. "Ron, as much as I saw it's not going to be just the three of us, if we make it out of all of this shit intact, we are going to be public figures at a mythical level. And we will have to be – Harry Potter, a half-blood, teaming up with a Muggleborn and a Pureblood to use 'friendship and love' to defeat evil. But before we can get there, we need to use the resources of the entire Order to weaken the Dark Lord, engineer a final battle we can win, and bring this whole bloody system tumbling down."

She tapped the paper in front of her. "This is what I want you to think about over the next two weeks," she said firmly. "Everyone claims that you're a good strategist because you play chess." Hermione saw him puff up at the words, even though his worry, and gave him a thin slice of a smile, crafted to deflate. "But I don't know if that's true. I think that chess is a game with set rules – but I admit, maybe that's a muggle perspective and Wizard's Chess is a different game. But you're also a fan of Quidditch, and of other games of strategy."

From one of the little cubbyholes, Hermione pulled out a map of Hogwarts and handed it to Ron. "I'm giving you a test, Ronald Weasley," she said, holding his eyes with her own. "Imagine Hogwarts at the site of the Final Battle – Dumbledore thinks that given the hold this place has on the Dark Lord, it may very well be there. Start planning our defense, our offense, how we could get the students out if it's during the school year. If this goes well, this is what we will present to the Order to justify your admission." Using her wand, she nudged  _ 2\. Order induction _ to number 3 on her parchment.

Ron studied the map, concentration settling on his face. "By – by myself?" he asked.

Hermione grinned at him. "You're learning," she said approvingly. "No. Cedric is here – he can collaborate with you. He can also sponsor you for the Order if he feels that it goes well." She was quiet, letting the pressure settle upon him.

"This is – this feels scary," Ron admitted, leaning back and looking at her. "Hermione, I don't know if I'm ready."

"Do you want to be?" she asked him.

The question hung in the air for a moment, and Hermione was gratified to see that Ron was truly considering it. "I want to be," he said finally. "But I'm scared I won't be enough."

Hermione stood, coming around her desk to ruffle Ron's hair. "I have faith in you, Ron," she said. "And Harry does too. If this turns out not to be your strength, we will find another place for you."

She crossed the room to the door, holding it open for her lanky friend. "We'll talk more once you have at least some basic shields in place," she said, letting him go before her. "It's time, Ron – you don't get to be part of this just because you helped Harry save me from a troll our first year. It's time to earn your role."

Ron reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Harry said something like that to me," he said. "I want to stop feeling like a – what does Snape always say? Like a dunderhead."

"You have your chance," she said, nodding to the rolled-up map in his hand. "This is based on your merits, Ron. Now. Let's have a cup of tea with Harry, Cedric, and Tonks before we have to return to the castle." She turned and started heading down the stairs.

Harry was speaking with Tonks in a low voice when they appeared in the living room. Anxiously he broke off his sentence, looking up at Hermione and Ron on the stairs.

A heavy weight settled on Hermione's shoulders – Ron's arm slung over them. "I'm all good," he said with a put-upon sigh. "And Hermione's even given me homework."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 59. 
> 
> Next chapter will be up Saturday, as per usual. Comments and kudos as always welcome - within limits of politeness. I personally don't like people telling me awful things so for now comments are restricted to people who have an account. For now. Comments/reviews are my favorite part of fanfiction, so I hope I still hear from many of you! 
> 
> Have a safe and good week and see you all soon!


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday all!
> 
> Tags are updated, this chapter has a little more raunchiness. There may be grammar/spelling issues - I was slammed with assignments this week (and started another side job) so I forget to get it my beta. Whoops. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_**Chapter 60** _

Publicly, a solemn Dumbledore announced that the ailing Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were being treated by specialists from St Mungo's in the Hospital Wing, and that if anyone had any information on the attack or incident that they should come forward immediately.

If his self-control had been less than it was, Severus would have been fidgeting through dinner as Dumbledore addressed the students. Earlier, while everyone had been occupied, Hermione would have left the Weasley boy to Safe House Three, where he would work with Diggory on Order business for the next two weeks. Hermione then would have returned Potter to Hogwarts… and then, perhaps, let herself into his rooms.

She would be there when he returned. He wondered if she would want to spend the evening with him, or if she would want to immediately start working with Yaxley. Would she be waiting for him, curled in her armchair with one of his books? Or grading papers at his desk? Or, perhaps, stretched out on the sofa as she had been one time, firelight making the skin on her bare back glow warm and golden?

He swallowed hard, pushing thoughts of Hermione away. Severus scanned the Great Hall, paying attention to where Potter and the Weasley girl sat with their heads together, speaking softly. Tonks was a nondescript shadow near the Gryffindor table – she had agreed to take on the burden of protecting Harry while Hermione was otherwise occupied, but she was keeping her distance. Potter seemed small and alone in the Great Hall without his usual flanking of bright red and bushy brown hair. However, it seemed like the youngest Weasley had attached himself to his side, busying herself by glaring at everyone as if she could keep the rumors at bay singlehandedly.

And rumors there were – some students, it seemed, suspected Harry Potter of poisoning his friends himself, as a kind of sociopathic budding Dark Lord in training. There were swaths of students, younger ones especially, who parted before the moody teen and his new shadow. Of course, the poisonings were an excuse for extra guards in the corridors, Aurors in blue uniforms becoming a common sight between classes. Potter had to put up with the usual mocking from his Slytherins, jokes about how his only friends had tried to off themselves because they detested him so. Through it all, Potter bore the comments silently, the mulish set of his jaw winding tighter and tighter.

Severus turned his gaze to his godson. Draco sat flanked by Gregory and Vincent. He lounged, bored and princely. Only because he had known the child his entire life could Severus see the way tension drew his shoulders taunt, made him brusque with Pansy and Blaise.

Hidden in a mansion in the countryside, the Dark Lord gloated. Draco, while not rewarded for completing his task, had been praised for felling both of Harry Potter's closest friends. While the Dark Lord knew that Hermione Granger had been trained to protect Potter, he was suspicious that Weasley was a similar genre of protector.

"Both of them! Both of them, my boy, the mudblood and the blood traitor," he had crooned at Draco. "If they die, you will be well rewarded. Paving the way to ensure the boy is mine."

Draco had nodded warily, knowing in the back of his mind that they would not, in fact, die, and fearing the punishment that would ensue. For now, he was a pale shadow at the Dark Lord's side. His mother smiled tremulously at Severus and took the opportunity to give her son a long embrace. Draco returned the castle by sunrise, and away in the manor the Dark Lord waited for news.

And so it seemed the plan had worked. Draco's position of trust with the Dark Lord had been strengthened. Hermione had time away to research, and he was as far removed as possible from his godson's successes and failures. And, so far, Kingsley had said nothing to either Severus or, it seemed, Albus Dumbledore about the change in Severus' Patronus. When Hermione returned to him, he would need to discuss with her how to proceed. A change, any perceived change in his loyalties, could be disastrous.

At his side, Minerva was tightlipped. She hadn't known about the plan in advance, but knew that Hermione and Weasley were moving to the Safe House that night. "I hate to see him there all alone," she was murmuring to Flitwick, on her other side. "Imagine how far behind Mr. Weasley will be when he returns, Merlin willing."

Flitwick chortled. "Not with the Granger girl there to catch him up as soon as they're both awake," he said sagely, pointing a fork topped with a roasted potato at Minerva. "That girl will be hitting him over the head with the books before the poor boy can stand."

Farther down the table, Slughorn was basking in the praise rolling in from Hooch and Sprout. "Antidotes are tricky things," he was saying pompously. Severus ground his teeth. "It took me skill, a good hunch, and a fair bit of luck to figure out what direction to go in. Potter bought me time, of course, with the bezoars, but it was tight! Why-"

"I'm retiring for the night," Severus snapped, rising from the table.

Minerva glanced at him. "Very well, Severus, no need to announce. Don't forget we have our usual Monday staff meeting tomorrow evening." While her words meant little, there was a small bit of warmth behind her eyes. She knew – or at least suspected – who had really brewed the antidote that had saved her precious lions.

Severus gave her a curt nod, and left the Great Hall, robes billowing around him. There was a knot of anxiety and anticipation in his belly. His mind kept replaying the image of Hermione, fallen asleep while waiting for him, almost nude on his couch. Hermione, in his rooms. In the closest thing he had to a home, waiting for him. For two weeks, she would be there, every evening. What would they do with a silver of domestic bliss, a hint of what life could be like after the war? Would it be too much time together? Would they argue and snap? Or would it be so wonderful that the end of those two weeks would hang over them like a specter?

When he crossed through his potions cabinet and into his living room the scene awaiting him made Severus frown. While there was a fire roaring in the hearth and a sleeping Crookshanks occupying Hermione's usual armchair, there was no other sign of Hermione in his quarters. He felt irrationally disappointed – he had thought she would be there waiting for him. In fact, he had been sure of it. But if there was one trait he shared with his lover, it was focus. If he had the tools to unwind a riddle waiting for him, not much would keep him from it, he supposed.

Severus stalked through the living room to his bedroom, feeling his mood grow blacker with each step. He was trying to rein it in, thinking desperately of his father's own black moods. "Don't be so put out that you're a miserable bastard when she actually gets here," he muttered to himself, scowling. He shrugged off his robes, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up briskly. He was about to leave his bedroom when he noticed the crack of light under the door to the bathroom. His nose twitched – he could smell steam and sandalwood.

He pushed open the door to the bathroom and stopped in the doorway. If he had less control over his mind, a red blush would be spreading across his face. His foul mood melted away as he inhaled the steam in the air.

The large sunken tub was full almost to the brim with steaming water and foaming bubbles and beautiful woman. He could see Hermione's smooth chest and neck, but white foam kept her breasts hidden. Candles were floating in the air and tucked into the niches in the stone walls along two sides of the tub, giving the stone room a warm glow and weaving gold threads in the pile of dark curls balanced precariously atop her head. Her wand was held lazily in one hand, flicking as she turned the pages in the book floating in front of her face.

She noticed him almost immediately, a warm sweet smile spreading across her face. With a swish of her wand, her book snapped shut and floated over to the small table where her clothes were folded. "Severus," she said happily. "I thought you'd be longer at dinner!"

Severus' chest felt tight and fragile looking at her, fondness and desire rising to his gaze. "I couldn't wait to see you," he said haltingly, honestly. It fought against every instinct he had to tell her the truth that he had missed her, to open his longing to her view, to give her that power. But seeing the delight that spread across her face, he felt that it was worth it to feel so exposed.

She lifted a hand out of the bubbles, beckoning to him. "Would you like to join me?" Her eyes were dark and framed with long lashes, creased with a smile. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the warmth of the bath, and so looked so alive, so soft, so sensual.

He felt caught and awkward, wanting desperately to join her and feeling a prickle of embarrassment. "Do you want me to? Or – was I interrupting?" _Oh Merlin – I just burst in on her._

Something saucy crossed her face, and Hermione sat up in the tub. His eyes fell from her face to her chest, where her breasts, laced with foam and bubbles, appeared, the tips of her nipples hardening in the contrasting cool of the air. "I have to admit that while I didn't plan to be interrupted…" she trailed off, giving him a quirked half smile. "Well, I can't say the thought of being interrupted didn't cross my mind." She licked her lips, drawing his eyes to her face once more.

"You're beautiful," he told her, sincerity in his voice. "I'd be happy to join you."

"Then you need to get undressed," she said playfully. "Do you want me to close my eyes?"

Severus snorted. "I'm afraid there isn't much to admire on my end," he said wryly. "I'm no Viktor Krum." As he folded his arms, he could feel the phantom ache of old wounds, the ache that felt like age despite his scant thirty-six years.

"I beg to differ," said Hermione softly. "You… I love your body, Severus." She beckoned him closer, and he came, reluctantly. "Will you undress for me? Or would you like me to undress you?" Her hand reached for his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand.

Severus sighed, looking down at her. "Why is it that you can make me so unsure?" he asked, voice roughening. "I want to be enough for you, Hermione. Around other people, I'm fine, but when it comes to you… you both fill me with confidence and make me feel like a scared teenager again."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels unsure,' Hermione admitted, tilting her head as she gazed up at him with frank and open eyes. "But you make me feel so wonderful, Severus. You let me know how beautiful you find me and I want to do the same for you." She smiled up at him. "I love you, Severus Snape. Come and join me." With a wave of her hand, she extinguished two thirds of the candles, leaving them only a few flickering lights.

Slowly he undressed in front of her, taking his time unbuttoning each button of his white shirt, then shrugging it from his shoulders in a fluid movement. Through it all her eyes were on him, soft and warm. His pants followed, then he pulled down his underwear and socks all in one movement. He muttered a quick cleaning charm, ridding himself of any sweat, dirt, or potions residue on his skin. One never knew what would react with the chemicals in the soaps – green hands for three days as the only lesson he had needed there. He stood before her, nude and still. Inside, he quelled the urge to squirm or cover himself.

"Come here, my love," she said softly, holding a hand out to him. With a sign of relief, Severus lowered himself into the water, glad for the cover of the bubbles. He was not a fan of bubble baths himself, finding them rather frivolous, but for once he was grateful that his scrawny chest was covered.

Hermione smiled at him, running her toes along his leg. "Look at me," she commanded, meeting his eyes. "See for yourself, Severus."

He met her honey eyes and was inside her mind in a moment. She pulled him along to the memory of him undressing before her. It was odd seeing himself from her eyes, seeing the harsh lines of his impassive face and the tension in his shoulders. She knew him so well – he could see through her eyes as she noted the tightness of his frame, the subtle signs of his discomfort.

Her – and therefore his – gaze flicked to his hands as he began to unbutton his shirt, and he felt the slow rise of arousal in her body, a slow stirring in her belly. _See what your hands do to me?_ Hermione asked in her mind, sending a smile to him. There was admiration in her as his shirt drifted to the floor, and the planes of his chest and abdomen were bared to the flickering lights and shadows from the candles. From her mind his shoulders were broad and strong, the wiry muscles on his arms and chest appealing. There was anxiety in her mind too as he left behind the rest of his clothes, the reflexive clench of her muscles at the sight and size of his cock, even mostly soft against his thigh. She noted his muscular thighs, the sparse hair on his legs and chest, the silvery lines of scars scattered about his body, and in all of her regard was love and affection.

Severus pulled out of her mind slowly, closing his eyes only after the connection was broken. A moment later, there was curly hair under his nose, and a warm body nestled up against him. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his hooked nose in her hair. Hermione's skin was slick, pebbling as his colder body met hers. He felt her sigh, turn her head to press a kiss to his shoulder.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asked, voice muffled in her curls.

Hermione laughed and he felt it in his chest. "Hmmm… maybe it's all the times you've saved my skin. This time included."

They relaxed for a few moments in the hot water and steamy air, Hermione settling into his chest comfortably. He stroked the skin of her stomach where he held her to him and enjoyed the feeling of warmth sinking down into his bones. Despite no longer living in the dungeons, he often felt like he was still never warm, was still surrounded by darkness, depth, lake. Feeling warm was a luxury, feeling itself was a luxury. Being with Hermione made him feel present, made him want to experience everything his senses had to offer.

Hermione broke the silence, clasping his hand as she spoke. "Why do you think you're still shy in front of me, Severus? I know I haven't seen you nude much, I suppose, but…" she trailed off, thinking as she played with his fingers. "You're always so confident."

Severus frowned into her hair. "Wrong," he said firmly. "Or – rather, I'm confident in my abilities. I know I am a talented Potions Master, and am confident – some would say arrogant – in my estimation of my skill. I know I am a good spy – I'm alive after all, and have been playing this game for close to two decades. My proficiency as a wizard is without question, my adeptness with a wand, with wandless and wordless magic, my knowledge of the Dark Arts and of healing spells… Before my colleagues, before my students, before Order members and Death Eaters… of course I'm confident. It doesn't matter what others may think of my personality, my appearance, my… other skills." His voice dipped low at the end of the sentence, and his thumb brushed against one nipple, sending a flutter into Hermione's belly.

"So you don't care what others think of you," Hermione summarized, squeezing his other hand. "But…"

"But you are different," Severus said, almost reluctantly. "I want you to – I want – I _need_ you to –" he fumbled, unsure even of what he wanted to say. "Most people who want something of me want things I know I can give," he said finally. "My wand, my potions, my life, my skills… I am a means to an end. My wants matter little, if at all. With you… you make me want to be better, Hermione. Your esteem, your care, your desire… all of these things I want desperately from you, and I fear falling short." Something caught at his throat, making his voice rougher. "I have fallen short," he admitted. "I trust you when you say you want me, but I can't help but consider where I fall short when you deserve the world."

Hermione was quiet for a long moment. Only the sounds of their breathing and the quiet lapping of the water when one of them shifted accompanied their thoughts. "I have the same fears," she said finally. "I know what it is, Severus, to be bound body and soul to duty. I've given the Order my childhood, my friendships, my normalcy – I know what it is to wonder if I mean anything more than my purpose. When it comes to guarding Harry, to supporting the Order, I know that all I need to do is study harder, push myself harder, spend more time thinking and practicing and staying vigilant. But when it comes to pleasing you, Severus, I sometimes feel like I don't know what I'm doing."

In the steam and the dark and water, without having to look at each other, their vulnerability hung in the damp air. Severus held Hermione tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. "You are everything that I want," he told her, voice low and tender.

Hermione twisted in his arms, arching to press a kiss to his lips. "You're everything I want too, Severus." Her small hands went to the back of his head, her fingers caressing his scalp, tugging him down to her. She kissed him passionately, and before he knew it, she was straddling him, her chest pressed to his.

A warm tongue slipped into his mouth and he groaned, clutching her slick body to his. Normally she was so soft, so warm, but it was electric to feel her skin slippery and lithe against him. Her thighs were tight with muscle, her back scarred against his arms, her mouth hot as she nipped at his neck. Every time she shifted, her arse brushed against his cock, aching and hard now, burning like a brand between them in the water. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to possess her all at once.

"Do you trust me, Hermione?" he asked, voice ragged as her lips traced his ear.

"Always," she said, her voice just as rough.

He curled an arm around her waist, then in a swift moment drew her under him, barely making a splash in the water. He kissed her deeply as she wound her arms around his neck. His heart pounded in anticipation as he made space between their bodies, slipping a hand up her thigh and tracing her curls with one finger. She shuddered in his arms, her breath coming fast.

"Can I taste you?" he asked her, voice low in her ear. "Can I kiss you here?"

Her eyes were dark as they met his, faint glimmers of candlelight showing both her eagerness and her hesitation. "Do you want to?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied, the obvious desire in his voice betraying the eagerness he felt.

She smiled at him then, the curve her lips brazen and shy, wanting and hesitant and trusting of him. "Then yes," she said, pulling him down to kiss him once more.

In a smooth motion, Severus hoisted Hermione onto the edge of the sunken pool, pulling her hips to the ledge as she leaned into the corner made by the two walls. She gasped as her skin made contact with the cold stone, and her thighs tensed in his hands. Water streamed down her body, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. Severus kissed her, slanting his mouth over hers possessively, before moving down to the rosy nipples that topped the swells of her breasts. They were hard and apparently quite sensitive, going by the sounds Hermione made as he teased them with his tongue, then gently nipped with his teeth. He kissed down the scar that snaked between her breasts, going down her belly before pressing a kiss to where it ended, curled around her right hip. She was tense in his hands, with anticipation, he hoped.

He looked up at her from between her thighs, searching her face for a moment, checking in to make sure she was as eager as she had been. Hermione looked stretched taunt with want, her lower lip between her teeth. Keeping her eyes with his, he brushed his thumb across her slit, barely touching her. Her hips bucked under his hand, and he couldn't keep a smirk from his face as she let out a breathy sound, almost like a laugh.

At first she didn't taste of anything – just clean, just water – but as he lapped at her, teased her with his tongue and with his fingers, he finally tasted her salt. Hermione cried out above him, her fingers found their way to his hair, she bucked against him. She was unrestrained and surprised with the intensity of the feeling, and he felt pride grow within him, even as he ignored the pressing hardness between his legs. He lived for this feeling, for the desire to make her clench around his fingers, to make her say in that pleading way, "Please, do that, yes, Severus, just that-"

Afterward, she slithered down against him, into the water, and it only took two pumps of her hand for him to find his own release, the taste of her still on his lips. Feeling sated and drained, he Vanished the water from around them, calling his wand to him and murmuring a cleaning spell and a drying spell.

"That's lovely," Hermione said dreamily, leaning into him as he guided them both up, then down the steps out of the tub. "Feels like an invisible hairdryer."

"After all that work, you're impressed with the drying charm?" he asked her wryly, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her to him.

Hermione laughed softly, slipping her arms around him and pressing herself against him. "That felt amazing, Severus," she told him sincerely, craning her neck to look up at him. "We will definitely have to do _that_ again." She stretched up and kissed him deeply, pulling his head down to hers.

He kissed her back, feeling again that warm tenderness toward her nearly overwhelm him. When she pulled away after a long moment, she was smiling at him. "To bed?" he asked softly. "You've had a long day."

Hermione beamed at him. "We get to go to bed together," she told him, a ridiculous grin on her face. "And sleep all night, then wake up tomorrow without me having to sneak off to my rooms."

"An entire night with you in my bed…" he drawled. "Should I expect to have any covers left come morning?"

"Absolutely not," she told him, then kissed him quickly before pulling away and walking toward the bedroom. Severus followed her, unable to keep a smile from his face.

* * *

The next morning, Severus woke long before the sun shone its weak October light into his still-unfamiliar tower rooms. He was used to waking early – it had been his habit for years. He had never been a man who had slept much, often plagued by insomnia. During the first war he had experimented with sleeping potions, alcohol, drugs once or twice… but in the end he had simply risen when his body had commanded him to, unable to bear lying awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Better to brew, to fight invisible enemies, to add to his spelled journals of secrets, than to be tangled in sheets and self-hatred.

He had found, however, that with Hermione in the bed with him, snuffling softly and flinging her limbs about him, being in bed was bearable even if he could not sleep. Severus breathed with her, enjoying the warmth of her. She was curled on her side, clutching great swaths of his comforter, leaving him little choice but to curl tightly behind her to stay warm. Her bushy curls tickled his nose, but smelled wonderful, like his shampoo and her scent.

Severus woke her slowly, pressing kisses to her neck and stroking her belly with his hands. She protested sleepily, but eventually turned and draped herself over him, blinking her eyes open slowly.

"What time is it?" she asked, only half awake.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Half past four," he said casually.

Hermione huffed, closing her eyes again. "You're a bastard," she said with as much decisiveness as she could manage. "Bastard."

"I wanted to show you where Yaxley is before students awake," he said, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. "You knew I was a bastard when we started all of this."

That woke her up. Hermione sighed and stretched, and his eyes went appreciatively to her breasts. "Fine. I did want to start with him today, and I wasn't sure what time you'd get home. You have a staff meeting tonight, right?"

"Yes, darling," he drawled sarcastically, odd feeling rising at the… domesticity of it all. "I might be late tonight."

They dressed quickly, Hermione ducking into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wrestle her hair into a bun. Severus sipped on a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette, waiting for her to finish.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded at him, then Disillusioned herself. No one would question Severus stalking the dungeons at this hour, but the pair of them would make the portraits gossip. Severus walked over the wall near the fireplace and showed Hermione that the small door she had assumed to be a closet actually opened into a wall in the dungeons. It was like looking out into the hallway through darkly tinted cling film – pushing through the stone was like pushing through thick marshmallow, and then they were in a corridor. The wall scones flared to life at their presence, illuminating a hall not far from the Slytherin dorms.

"Brilliant," Hermione murmured. "That's convenient."

Now, far from the safety of his rooms, Severus did not allow even a thin smile to cross his lips. "Indeed."

He lead her deeper into the dungeons, to the places where the Bloody Baron was rumored to roam, then down again. It was only a few more minutes before he stopped in front of another stretch of blank wall, unremarkable except for the fact Hermione felt like she was walking into spiderwebs, a classic sign of strong runic wards. She brushed her hand over her face out of habit, shuddering slightly.

"Uncomfortable, I know," he murmured. "I felt that even if a student made it this far down, the webby feeling might make them turn around."

Hermione glanced around, then revealed herself once again. "You'd be right – I'm not fond of it. Where are we exactly?"

"Directly under the dungeons," Severus said quietly. "On the off chance that the Dark Lord can detect his presence." He began to key her into the wards, chanting and weaving his wand into the space in front of the door that was slowly appearing.

Hermione felt a rush of anxiety in that moment – if the Dark Lord even suspected what they were doing, even thought for a chance they might be harboring one of his Death Eaters, there would be hell to pay for Severus and for Draco. She swallowed down the anxiety, quelling it as best she could.

It was only moments before she could see the hazy door clearly. Hermione took in a breath, squaring her shoulders. "He'll be out?"

Severus nodded. "Completely. I drugged him – I'll give you the antidote for if you'd like to wake him." He passed her a small vial filled with a light blue potion. Without hesitation, he grasped the door handle and pushed it in, revealing a large room that had been clearly set up for experimentation.

Yaxley was chained to a sturdy stone throne that seemed to emerge, seamless, from the floor. His head lolled, gaunt and thin-necked, and there was a long line of drool down his chin. He was enclosed in a protective circle, clearly the work of her Potions Master. Beyond him, he had thoughtfully set up a work station for her, prepped with chalkboards and what looked like a large lab table. Sheets of parchment and fresh quills were waiting for her, as were multiple colors of chalk.

Hermione circled the table, picking up the chalk to examine it. She beamed at Severus, coming over and placing a tender hand on his arm. "Thank you, Severus."

He gave her a look that insisted he had no idea what she was talking about, and cleared his throat. "When you are outside the circle, you are fine," Severus said brusquely, changing the subject. "Within it, he could hurt you if he got free."

"So I won't let him get free," she said, moving closer to the prone man. "Where are the gems that storing his magic?"

They were attached to the shackles binding his wrists and ankles, pressed to his pulse points with iron. Working since the night of the poisoning, they had succeeded in draining the man of most of his magical power. When Hermione reached out with her magic, testing what she saw before her, he was barely more magical than Filch. Severus showed her how to manage the shackles multiple times, and how to change the warding on the room if she wanted to do something that would exude more magic or more noise.

"No one should bother you down here," he said finally, crossing his arms. "Is there anything else you need, Hermione?"

She shook her head, wandering over to the desk. "Not in terms of supplies, Severus, you've covered it quite well. I think the only thing I need is that opal necklace that we… confiscated from Draco. I have an experiment or two in mind, but I think that will come near the end of what I need to do with Yaxley."

Severus nodded, then crossed the room to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you tonight," he said quietly. "I'll be later than usual – what time should I expect you?"

"Eight?" she suggested. "If I'm not back by then, come and fetch me. You know how I get when I'm working on a project." She gave him a light smile, but her eyes darted to the parchment.

He knew what she looked like when she was eager to get started – with one more brush of his lips across hers, he left the room to let her work.

* * *

Time passed oddly down in the dungeons – Hermione wasn't sure if it was the lack of natural sunlight or her wholehearted focus on the task before her, but she didn't pause in her work until her old back injury flared in protest. It was upon sitting down that she noticed that her belly was growling with hunger. With a sigh, Hermione flicked her wand a muttered a spell that obscured Yaxley from view. A few moments later, she had a small pile of sandwiches from the kitchens in front of her on the lab table, courtesy of a floppy-eared house-elf.

As Hermione tucked into the food, she re-read what she had written on the chalkboard, mind scanning ahead. She had always worked best visually – it was helpful to see the enormity of the tasks she had set herself on display in this manner.

The first problem, the one that weighed the most heavily on her, was the Horcux in Harry's head. There were numerous problems branching out from that one: Was Harry's soul connected in some way to the Dark Lord's? Were they intertwined, or just existing in close proximity to each other? How could one remove the Horcrux – namely without Harry's death? If they couldn't remove the Horcrux without removing it and Harry's soul from Harry's body, was it possible to separate and return a soul?

The list of experimental ideas was rather limited, Hermione was afraid. The clearest option for removing souls was a Dementor – but they were notoriously dark and unreliable. While Hermione believed in the capacity for good in most creatures, Dementors were another story. That left her with devising a ritual of some sort or using some kind of magical device. Mirrors would be useful in a ritual, if her reading had been correct. The opal necklace that Draco had purchased from Borgin and Burkes might also prove to be useful – albeit dangerous. She didn't know how it would work and would need to run many tests on it. Which… was where the sleeping Yaxley came in. The footnote she had read right before her poisoning suggested that a bonding charm might be helpful in containing a soul or placing boundaries of some kind in a soul – she needed to do more research there.

So that was one problem, more or less.

The second problem was multi-layered. What was the Dark Mark? How did it work? How did the Dark Lord draw power from them? She wondered if she could reverse the Mark to locate the Dark Lord, or if it was connected to his magic, his person, or also whatever fragment of soul rested in the Dark Lord's main form. Removing the Dark Mark could be a powerful lure to the side of light – if Hermione could remove it from Death Eaters, a major obstacle to spies and turncoats would be removed. And, of course, Draco would be able to survive the death of the Dark Lord.

To tackle this, Hermione anticipated needing to experiment on Yaxley's Mark, but in a way that would not alert the Dark Lord to what she was doing. She would also, maybe, need to look through Yaxley's memories of being Marked, or the Marking ceremonies of others.

She felt a twinge of something she couldn't quite name – she knew that Severus would be upset if she did that, instead of asking him the questions she wanted to know. Severus still adamantly refused to let her view his memories of Death Eater gatherings. Hermione chewed on her lip as she considered, but she kept coming back to the same conclusion. She needed to see if for herself.

The other work she wanted to do during this small vacation was to focus on the information Secret-Keeping spell that she and Severus had discussed with Dumbledore and then Kingsley. If the Inner and even Outer Circles of the Order were to have more information, it needed to be protected. This, Hermione was excited to work on, and even see if Severus could help her with. He was more experienced at developing spells than she was, if she had judged the copy of his old potions book right. She had never seen most of the spells scribbled in the margins, and was itching to try them out in the practice room.

Finally, she wanted to meet with Severus and Draco and figure out a way to plant a story about the Deathly Hallows. It would take time to research, craft a plausible story, then lay the breadcrumbs out such that the Dark Lord would buy it hook, line, and sinker. Deliver it via Severus too soon and with too little evidence, and the Dark Lord and his more loyal Death Eaters would figure out it was a ruse. Severus would lose his place or his life, and the Dark Lord would feel humiliated. Plant it too late, and they wouldn't be able to figure out the best way to use it, or to reveal what had actually happened to Dumbledore's hand.

Well. There was a lot to tackle, and only two weeks. Or…

"I could split my time," Hermione murmured to herself. "One turnaround here, with Yaxley. One turn around to sleep. One turn around in the library researching, one more turn to sleep. One turn around in Severus' rooms, and then one more chance to sleep. I may have to use the Room of Requirement since my dorm isn't an option…" She traced her lips with her finger, a habit she had picked up from her Potions Master. It would be a lot of time manipulation – it would triple her research vacation into six weeks instead of two, and there was so much more she could accomplish. Still, part of Hermione felt uneasy at the prospect, unsure if it was about the lure of more time, or the unraveling feeling she sometimes experienced caught in the whirling winds of time.

With a flick of her wand, "Time Turners" appeared on the last available space on the blackboard, the white chalk delicately balancing in the air. If she had time, she would address the question of the Time Turner. If she had time, if she had time… Hermione always had time.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends Chapter 60!
> 
> Once I reply to everyone's lovely comments (I'll do it later today, once I finish a midterm test :( ) we will be at 1000 comments! AHHH! How exciting! 
> 
> I'd like to offer you all a one-or-two shot as a thank you for engaging with this story! I'm slammed until November, but I'll have two weeks of quarantining before the holidays to visit family. Send me your prompts, and I'll choose my favorite SSHG prompt and write a thank you story! If you want to see other examples, One Who Knew was the prize for the 1000k reviews for this story on ff.net! 
> 
> Have a lovely week, see you on Saturday. I only have two pre-written chapters left... so there might be a gap after that. We'll see!


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> And we are at 1000 comments! WOW! Thank you all for all of your support for this story! I'm hurtling toward the end of the semester, but over my break I'll find some time to write a oneshot to say thank you! 
> 
> I was so busy I forgot to get this chapter to my beta, so any mistakes are my own!

_**Chapter 61** _

Hermione had imagined her clandestine research taking place hidden in the shadowy recesses of the Restricted Section, hidden among the dangerous books on soul magic. Instead, she was carefully hidden behind layers of Disillusionment spells and frowning the Biography section.

She trailed her fingers over thick books in the "F" section. _Fame and Fortune: Fiona Fantastic, The Life and Times of Damien Foolsglove, Witchy Weather: the Fogsmith Family of Scotland…_ and there it was. _The Black Widow: The Deadly Love of Vivian Foxfield._

Her heart beating in her chest, Hermione quickly spelled the book invisible and plucked the volume from the shelves. It was ironic that this hint of information had come to her as she was fighting for her life from poison, purchased by the same man who had brought the Lady of Foxfield's opal necklace to her. Or rather, had bought the necklace in order to at least attempt to kill her.

Hermione wandered to a hidden alcove where the other students would be less likely to see the slight distortion she left in her wake. This was one of her favorite spots, near a small window that looked out onto the lake. She bent her head and began to read.

The early life of Vivan Foxfield was uneventful. A pureblood lady, the only surprising thing was that she had been sorted into Slytherin, a deviation from her historically Ravenclaw family. She was an only child and the last of the Foxfield linage. While the Foxfields had been rich a generation before, her father Frederick Foxfield had run up enormous gambling debts that had driven the family close to destitution. Their only hope had been their daughter marrying rich – and so she had, straight out of Hogwarts. Her first husband was Agnostus Goyle. The photo in the biography was of a decrepit wizard with a mean smirk, and the beautiful waif-like Vivian at their wedding, the bride almost lost in swathes of white dress robes.

Hermione examined the woman's face. It was surprising to realize that Vivian was younger in this photo than she was, only barely seventeen. She was beautiful despite a strong nose, with black hair and light eyes. She didn't look scared in the picture, only determined.

It was, by all accounts, an unhappy and brief marriage. While the wedding resolved the family's gambling debts, the biography described Vivian as deeply unhappy. Excerpts from letters to her Hogwarts friends recounted a husband with a temper, whose older children were dismissive of their younger step-mother. This Vivian seemed beleaguered on all sides: her husband was quick to realize that his in-laws were only interested in his money, her step-children were cruel to her, and her family became upset when the flood of Galleons ran dry.

Enter Benedict Nonamus. The photo of the young dandy showed a handsome younger man, in his late twenties at the most, with fashionable clothing and laughing eyes. In the photo, he gave the viewer a rakish wink and tipped his hat over and over again. The biographer, clearly titillated by the rumors he had pieced together, extolled the drama and scandal caused by the flirtation. It was clearly insinuated that it was this young love that had encouraged Vivian to escape her unhappy marriage, by any means necessary. Hermione pursed her lips as she scanned the pages – there was little to prove this at all.

Nevertheless, Agnostus died suddenly of what appeared to be a heart attack, alone in his bed. The lovely Vivian, now only nineteen, was now a lovely widow. After a respectful six months of mourning, Vivian and Benedict married in a discreet ceremony, nothing like the enormous first wedding. The biographer insinuated this marriage occurred rather quickly after the reading of Agnostus Goyle's will, which left very little money to his third wife in favor of his eldest son, Gronagan Goyle.

However, only one year later, Vivian's letters had changed from overjoyed and relieved to deeply furious. She spoke of her husband's endless wandering eye, apologized for offenses given to her unmarried friends, and of three miscarriages. Abruptly, the biographer noted with glee, the tone changed. Vivian no longer wrote of her husband at all… and he was murdered by the husband of a married woman he had been dallying with, a man who had claimed Imperius during the subsequent Wizengamot trial…

This time, Vivian had been left a rather large sum of Galleons, and had gained more than a little notoriety. The term 'black widow' was certainly banded about in the press, long with photos of the beautiful Vivian in luxurious black dress robes that showed off her figure, beautiful and lithe. She had been widowed twice in two years, and was still barely twenty. She was belle of Wizarding society, with a sharp wit and trails of gossip. And yet, with her father's addiction barely in control, the money ran out in four months.

Her next husband, Robert Browning, was older this time, and obviously more clever than his predecessors. He was bound to Vivian with a soul bond, which linked their lives and their souls. He was a curious man, Hermione thought, examining him closely. He was a pureblood, but not one of the old families. Rather, he had made his considerable fortune in the dragon parts trade, something that was at odds with his thin frame, thick glasses, and receding hairline. And for the first time, there was a filigree and opal necklace around Vivian's neck and a serene smile on her face.

When Robert died – from dragon pox, of all things – it was reported in all local papers that Vivian had survived. She offered only one public comment – that Robert had researched the old magic of the soul bond, but obviously had made a mistake, and she was very surprised and missed her husband dearly.

Again she appeared in the papers, ridiculously wealthy at this point. The quality of her dress robes increased, as did the number of lavish parties and trips to the Continent. In every society photo reprinted in the book, Vivian stood out among her peers. Dark haired, dark lipped, dressed in every color but black… and while her contemporaries dripped with diamonds or sapphires or pearls… Vivian wore the same opal necklace to every occasion.

At this point, Hermione was thoroughly captivated. Why on earth would Vivian have remarried? Three marriages in barely four years, and to have escaped a soul bond, of all things? Even her father's gambling problem couldn't have blown through the Browning fortune. But nevertheless, Vivian married again just eight months later, this time to another wealthy bachelor who publicly insisted on a soul bond. And yet, he was gone in just thirteen months, as were the next five husbands…

The afternoon was half gone when Hermione returned the book to the shelf, head swimming. She needed to know more about soul bonds for marriage – this mystery would take some time to unravel. Vivian had clearly managed to escape several soul bounds, and the key was clearly the necklace that she had refused to remove or let anyone else touch. With no children, Vivian's dear Hogwarts friend, Elodie Smith, nee Rosenstein, had inherited the necklace and given to her daughter, Hepzibah. Hepzibah had sold it to Borgin and Burkes in exchange for a significant reduction in price for a locket that could be traced back to Salazar Slytherin.

It made Hermione giddy to think that Tom Riddle had come so close to the object that she sincerely hoped would be his downfall. She wondered if Tom had even handled the necklace when it was at Borgin and Burkes.

How had she done it? How had Vivian Foxfield escaped the bond? For each of the bonded husbands, she had been with them for at least one year, Hermione saw, having calculated the times from the dates of the appendices.

The books on soul bonds were in the Restricted Section, unlike the biography. Hermione supposed it really was for the best – the last thing a boarding school wanted was for precocious fourteen-year-old wizards and witches to get overly starry-eyed and perform soul bonds on each other. For that matter, seventeen-year-olds were also at risk, given the way engagements seemed to pop up amongst the oldest students each spring.

The wards on this set of shelves in the Restricted Section were as familiar to Hermione as her own name, given the sheer number of times she had cracked them. She had largely avoided the information about marriage bonds, focusing more on trying to find information about soul-siphoning and Horcruxes. The book she eventually found was slim and had a red velvet cover. With a quick check to ensure no one would see a floating book, Hermione tucked it into her book bag. It was late enough now to return to Severus' chambers. He would leaving his staff meeting shortly, and she wanted to be waiting for him.

 _He'll probably be in a terrible mood,_ Hermione thought, with an internal wince. Staff meetings – all meetings, really, from the Order to the Death Eaters to the Hogwarts faculty – tended to put Severus in a bad mood. He was not one to suffer idiots. _Maybe I could offer him a nice massage. Or… or some more fun._ A smile on her face, she hurried out of the Restricted Section, carefully weaving around oblivious students.

* * *

Throughout the entire infernal staff meeting, Severus could not keep – or rather, considering he was Master Occlumens, did not _want_ to keep – his mind from delving into thoughts of Hermione, even as he caustically opposed Slughorn's bid to invite a _vampire_ to the castle for his little 'Slug Club' gathering and visibly huffed at Professor Sprout's impassioned defense of the Gobstone Club, whose membership had never quite recovered from Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. He was normally the voice of disagreement and dissent at this meetings, and he played his part well. Occasionally, if Minerva wanted something controversial to pass, she would give him a significant glance and he would rant against it until everyone else had united in opposition to him. It was one of the few and fragile threads of friendship he had with the old Scottish witch, and one of which he was tetchily protective. Still, he was eager to abandon the dull debate over whether or not Filch was being too aggressive with the Secrecy Sensors or whether the parent complaints were worth it, considering the number of love potions and shrunken heads that had been discovered tucked away in student robes for a thornier issue.

He still had yet to tell Hermione about the change in his Patronus. Luckily Kingsley appeared to have neglected it in his reports to Hermione, as more pressing issues arose in the power vacuum left in the Ministry by Scrimgeour's death. Aurors were holding secret meetings, as were the department heads and Wizengamot members all vying to place their own puppet in the seat of power. For all of his faults, Scrimgeour had been a solid choice for Minister for Magic, if not particularly subtle. Names like Pius Thicknesse were being thrown about, but the man had been mysteriously absent, recovering, it was said, from a bad bout of the dragon pox. Severus, however, happened to know that what he was recovering from was a surprisingly strong Imperius curse that had been laid on him by none other than Yaxley. A look through the man's memories had shown Yaxley forging a note from his lover, asking the Head of Magical Law Enforcement to meet him in a Muggle pub not far from the Ministry. The rest was history. Severus wondered if Yaxley had ever wavered in his commitment to the Dark Lord. Obviously the plan had been for Corban Yaxley to kill his lover, and for his puppet to assume the role of Minister for a Ministry takeover. Would Yaxley have hesitated for love?

And that brought him to his last problem. He would have to tell Hermione about Lily in greater detail, in order to explain the significance of his Patronus. Severus had fervently hoped that he would never have to delve into the depths of his youthful cowardice with Hermione. He should have known it was inevitable. And, he thought to himself, he was damn lucky that Dumbledore had never revealed it to her. At least the old goat at kept at least one promise he had made his Potions Master.

His thoughts jumped back to his surroundings as professors began to shuffle their chairs and gather their papers, going back to their quarters for the evening. "Finally," he muttered under his breath. He stood and swept toward the doors, only to be blocked by Slughorn's portly figure.

"Severus, my esteemed colleague," Slughorn said jovially. "I trust you did not forget our little deal?" A wily spark in his eye let Severus know that his replacement had indeed suspected him of forgetting.

Severus glowered at him. "Enlighten me," he said in clipped tones. What deal had they made?

"I took your last Hogsmeade weekend," Slughorn reminded him, wagging a finger. "In exchange, you agreed to take my Monday evening patrols for October."

It took a moment of staring blankly at the other wizard for Severus to remember the exchange he had made with Slughorn weeks before. He had needed to spend the Hogsmeade weekend indoors with one Hermione, planning her poisoning in his rooms. She had later spun through time and joined the boys for a butterbeer, but reluctant to use the Time Turner himself, he had been forced to swap his assigned date with another professor. The old spider had made quite a deal for himself – after the negotiations were over, he had admitted he had been planning to go to the village for more candied pineapple anyway.

"Of course," he said briskly. "My… apologies." Clearly the look on his face was less than apologetic, because Slughorn blanched slightly and hurried out the door.

"You look like someone murdered your cat," Hootch called to him, amusement in her hazel eyes. "Don't tell me you had evening plans, Severus?"

He scowled at her too. "I'd tell you to fall off your broom but then I would be stuck refereeing the damned Quidditch matches," he snapped at her. If he was touchy, it was because he had been looking forward to spending the time with Hermione.

He swept through the corridors, eager to escape to the outside of the castle. He would patrol the perimeter, ensuring that all the defenses were solid, before returning the castle. The curfew for first and second year students was 8 pm, third and fourth years had to be in their dormitories by 9 pm, and fifth, sixth, and seventh years were expected to have left the Library and corridors by 10. Prefects were allowed more discretion, and had their own patrols. His meeting had ended at a quarter to eight, so it was far too early to start patrolling for the younger years.

Tapping his watch, he sent a message to Hermione that he would be later than he had estimated. Internally, he fumed. The duties of a professor had become more and more onerous to him with each passing year. Even with warming spells, the October air was biting and he hurried through his assessment of the outer wards, more of a formality than anything else. The Hogwarts wards were old and many layered, and for each weakness in an individual casting there were another dozen others that were stronger.

Once back in the castle, Severus stalked through the halls. The black look on his face was enough to encourage students to scurry to their dorms, regardless of the time. He docked points from three first years who were last leaving the library, gave dire warnings to a third year who looked lost in their Transfiguration homework, and began a systematic sweep of the various broom cupboards and secluded niches where amorous couples from different houses would try to sneak snogs before curfew.

With malicious delight, he found a Hufflepuff fifth year and a Ravenclaw sixth year hidden in a little niche hidden by a tapestry on the sixth floor. A favorite of many couples, it had just enough space for two people to sit. In the midst of his lecture, he noticed a shimmer in the air against a patch of wall. He narrowed his eyes, but finished his sentence abruptly.

"Thirty points from each of your houses," he said, firmly not glancing at the patch of air. At the surly cut of the boy's mouth, he added silkily, "And a detention for insolence. To be served with Filch – I don't have the time to discipline randy teenagers. Back to your Common Rooms." The couple almost ran away, cheeks red with shame or anger he didn't know.

The shimmery patch of air moved, and the skin on the back of his neck prickled as a woman's light voice said, "You're in quite the mood, my love." The tapestry twitched, then fell back again.

Checking the corridor quickly, Severus slipped behind the tapestry, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the wall. "Blame it on Slughorn," he said, raising his wand to cast a spell to hide the sound of their voices, and another that would discourage any other young couples from wanting to come near their niche.

Hermione flickered into view and put a hand on his arm, smiling up at him happily. She was wearing different clothes than she had when he had left her in the hidden dungeon room, and her hair was now in a tight braid. She looked tired but pleased to see him. He felt the bad mood dissipate and bent to press a kiss to the top of her head.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Is everything alright?" He noticed her brief hesitation before she nodded, and a tight fist clamped in his gut. "What is it?"

"Nothing, really," she said, reaching for his hand. "I wanted to see you. And – um –" she hesitated again, and hugged him, pressing her face to his chest.

Startled, he returned her embrace. "You're coming from the future, aren't you?" he asked. He felt unsettled at the thought. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

Hermione nodded against his chest. "Yes, yes. Nothing with Harry or the Dark Lord, or anything. It's just… " She looked up at him, brown eyes wide. "You're going to tell me a lot – a lot of things tonight."

"And you felt the need to travel through time to tell me about it?" Severus said slowly, confused. "Hermione – "

"I felt the need to travel through time and tell you it will be okay," Hermione interrupted, pulling away to look at him. "And to tell you I love you. And…" she trailed off, smiling ruefully at him. "And because you told me I would come to you, so I kind of have to at this point."

Severus stared at her dumbfounded for a moment. "Which doesn't sound like something I would do. But I supposed now that you've told me that I told you…. I have to tell you."

They broke into sudden laughter, holding each other. Hermione's heart soared at the sound of his deep baritone laugh, even knowing that it was only the absurdity of the situation that had brought it out of her usually taciturn Potions Master.

Severus shook his head, disbelief still running through his mind. "How uncanny," he said. "Time is such an odd, looping thing."

"Tell me about it," she said wryly, running a hand over her braid. "I sometimes wonder how many of me are running around at one time." She held up a hand, ticking off fingers as she spoke. "There is me, in what I consider my now. There is the me that is waiting for you back in your quarters, who to me is almost a day ago, because after we go to sleep and wake up in the morning, I'll work a full day, then come see you. I'm off to my quarters, and then I'll spin back one more time, so there is a future me wandering around as well."

"Merlin, Hermione," Severus said, sliding to the ground and leaning against the wall, a small crease forming in his brow. "I wonder if I tried to find your magical signature what I would see on the wards. I wonder what this does to your magic as well – if three iterations of you tried to cast spells all at the same point at the same time…"

Hermione settled into the niche with him, linking her hand with his. "Harry did that for the Patronus," she murmured. "It worked for him – the first time around he couldn't cast the spell, but the second time around he wasn't afraid because he knew he survived. Another strange time warp."

"I wonder if in that moment, the Dark Lord had more Horcuxes," Severus said slowly. "Because there were two Potters, were there two Horcuxes?"

Something clicked behind Hermione's eyes, a switch from lover to analyst. "I don't think Harry would have two souls at that point in time," she said slowly. "I mean – I don't think my soul is spread between three bodies right now."

"What happens to the soul with Time Turner use?" wondered Severus out loud. "If you were to be kissed by a Dementor on your first turn around, you would not be able to use the Time Turner to go into the future in the first place – no magic for it to adhere to. And then if you were to be kissed on the second turn around, then the first version of yourself wouldn't be affected."

Hermione shook her head. "Time remains linear for me, even as it appears to loop back for you," she said firmly. "If I was hurt here and now, bruises wouldn't appear on my past self. So, my soul remains with me, remains linear."

"So your soul travels with you when you travel through time," Severus said slowly. "How does the Time Turner even work, anyway?"

"I don't even know," Hermione admitted. She shifted, her teeth beginning to nibble at her bottom lip. "I mean, the official Ministry line is that there is an Hour Reversal spell, but that's, to put it finely, complete horse shit. I would only be able to go back five hours max, and I regularly do more than five hours – usually twelve max. I had originally imagined it being something like the temporal version of a tesseract, in which the magic of the Time Turner opens up a slit in the time space between time and place, and shoves me through it. But I've noticed that when I use the Time Turner, I stay in place and time moves around me. I feel like I'm being physically pushed backward in time." She frowned, and picked up the end of her braid, worrying at the hair. "I feel a weightless sensation, sometimes, much like the feeling when I wandlessly lift my magic inside myself."

Severus gently pulled her lower lip away from her teeth as she continued to chew. "I wonder if your magic has something to do with it," he questioned. "If it does, in fact, lift, and if creates a barrier that keeps your soul and your mind intact and separate from other versions of yourself."

"I have no idea," Hermione said wearily. "I could ask Dumbledore if he knows. All I know is that I compress three days into one and I still feel like I never have enough time."

Severus rubbed at his temples. "So you put a year into four months. How does this not drive you insane?"

She gave him a weak laugh. "And you're the one with the headache?" she teased. "No, for me usually I only do a year in six months. I have no idea how old I am now – somewhere past twenty, for sure." Eyes closed, she leaned against the stone wall, her mind wandering back to Vivian Foxfield… and the she bolted straight up and gasped.

The sudden movement caused Severus to startle, wand in his hand almost instantaneously as he came the balls of his feet. Heart pounding, he snapped, "What the hell, Hermione?"

Eyes wide, Hermione stared at him. "I think – I think – um – this, this could really be what we need. This could be _it_." Her hands started to flutter around her, trying to undo the clasp to her bookbag and failing.

Severus leaned close, grabbed her hands, and took a calming breath. "Breathe, Hermione," he ordered. "Tell me what you're thinking. Organize your thoughts."

With a visible effort, Hermione pulled in several calming breaths, thinking hard and practically thrumming against his hands. Severus felt a curl of apprehension in his stomach.

"It has to do with time, and the Time Turner," she said finally. "That and soul bonds. But – but it only came together tonight. I can't tell you yet. You need to go back to your quarters and we are going to have a conversation that is complicated but important and then I'm going to figure it out. But I can't tell you yet – I don't think so, at least. I need to think about it."

Severus stared at her in disbelief. "So you're telling me that you think you've figured out how to save the Wizarding World, but you can't tell me because we haven't had a conversation that takes place in my future and your past?"

She leaned in and kissed him quickly, apologetically. "I'm afraid so, my love. But –" and here she flashed him a brilliant, excited grin – " I think I have it. Or – at least I have the foundation."

"This bloody complicated, you know," Severus groused. "So I'm going to go speak to you – past you – and when will you come and tell me what you know?"

Hermione was already standing to leave, her mind a million miles away. "Tomorrow," she promised, unable to keep a smile off of her face. "Tomorrow."

Severus rose to his feet as well, reaching out a hand for her. He gently turned her face toward his own, and bent down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. Even distracted, Hermione melted into him, answering his kiss eagerly. She was warm and smelled like she always did when returning from the Prefects Bath. When he slid his hand around the back of her head, he could feel the fragile cradle of her skull and the hair still damp from the bath. When he finally pulled away, he couldn't help but stroke the side of her face.

"I can't wait for a time when a day for you is also one day for me," he said softly. "I think of the – the joy I feel knowing that I will sleep with you in my bed tonight and tomorrow and from waking up with you this morning, and I wish you could feel the same."

In a moment, the youthful face before him grew tired. "I wish that too, Severus," she said quietly. "I'm so – so tired."

The wave of protective fire that spread through him did not surprise Severus, but it did make him hold her tighter in his arms. "Hurry back to me."

She reached up and kissed him again once, gently. "Hurry to me," she replied. "You'll see me in a moment."

* * *

Stifling a yawn, Hermione leaned back against the sofa, and regarded the notes that were spread around her on the floor of Severus' living room. It was late – he had been due from the staff meeting more than an hour ago, and the message he had sent over the watch had only said _I will be late_. She figured that something would have held him – an emergency with the Slytherins, or miscreants in the halls – and she wasn't too concerned. She had used the time to draw up a schedule for herself for the next two weeks, with routes through the castle, locations for her Time Turner use, and room occupancies organized.

With that complete, she turned to the slim red volume she had pulled from the library shelves earlier. Long nights of reading Order reports and textbooks and the occasional novel for fun meant that when turning to the written word, the sleepiness slid off her like a sheet of rain. She was hungry for the knowledge, fueled by fear and hope and love.

Soul bonds, it turned out, were tricky things. It was surprising that so many of Vivian's paramours had agreed to the terms of the bond. It had to take place on a full moon in nature, for one – not the typical high society gathering place. Both parties had to enter into the agreement of their own free will, as it would not take if there was coercion involved – one theory, the book posited, why the infamous Lady of Foxfield's bonds had _obviously_ not been real.

The bonding ceremony was, in and of itself, not supremely complicated. It, like many soul rituals, involved blood and vows, as well as a sufficiently powerful castor. Physical proximity was necessary as well for the first few weeks after the bonding, proximity that would anchor the bond to the couple. And then, they were free to go about every day life.

The reasons marriage bonds were so dangerous, however, was that the two souls became linked. The death of one party would result in the swift death of the other, in every case other than that of the Lady of Foxfield. The souls were linked – if one went to the great beyond, the other was taken there as well. Infidelity was not an issue – having sex with another party would not harm either bondee – but neither would be able to procreate with another person, which is why it had been favored by pureblood families in the past. All of the potential for life was contained within the bond.

At the sound of the door opening, Hermione's wand was in her hand in a moment, lowering as she saw Severus. She smiled happily at him, glad to see he wasn't in the dour state she would have expected if he had been called to deal with troublemakers. Instead, he looked – well, puzzled wasn't ever a word that could be applied to Severus, but the deep unsettlement hidden in the lines his face was close enough.

"Is everything alright, love?" she asked, rising to greet him. "You seem like you've had something of a surprise."

He looked at her sharply. "I have," he said frowning. "You and I just had a chat in the little niche on the sixth floor."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, grinning. "A chat or a snog?" She made a mental note to be on the sixth floor on her next turn around.

Here, at least, he gave her a crooked half smile. "More of a chat than a snog, unfortunately," he said. Reaching out, he beckoned at her, and when she came to him, he folded her into his arms. Hermione, confused, hugged him tightly. The part of her that reveled in his presence relaxed into happiness, but another part of her kept a thread of wariness. Her fingers itched for her wand.

"A good chat, I hope?" Hermione asked cautiously. "Is everything ok?"

She couldn't see his face, as her own was pressed into his chest, but she could feel him nod. "All is well," he said, rather cryptically.

Still confused, she pulled away from his chest, then stretched up on her tip toes to kiss him quickly. "If all is well, then, would you like a cup of tea?"

He accepted gratefully, and she went to the little kitchenette to start the kettle while Severus excused himself for a quick shower. His little kitchenette had two burners, one of which held a serviceable but old kettle. While the water boiled, she fetched the black lacy teapot that had been passed down from his mother. Carefully, she spooned the blend Severus made for himself into the pot, noting that the large jar was nearly empty. He hadn't had time to blend his own tea, recently. It seemed that each of their days was running out of usable time, despite the Time Turner at her disposal.

By the time the water had boiled and the tea had steeped, Severus returned from his shower. His hair was wet and pulled back, leaving his face uncommonly exposed to her eyes. She normally only saw him so clearly when he was brewing. It still gave Hermione a jolt to the belly to see her lover like this, warm and clean-smelling, dressed his 'home' clothes. It still surprised her every time she saw Severus in something colorful – if a sweater so green it was almost black could be called colorful. He wore black pajama pants, and his feet were bare.

Hermione observed him as she poured out the tea. His face would have been inscrutable to most, but she had been given years to study this man closely. He was trying – and failing – to calm himself, nostrils flaring as he breathed in deeply. His brow was furrowed slightly, his shoulders drawn together. Frowning herself, Hermione cupped his cheek in one hand, turning his gaze toward her.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked, stroking his cheek with a thumb. He had showered but he hadn't shaved, and the movement made a rasping sound.

He caught her hand and kissed it quickly. "I – I've had something to tell you, and I've been avoiding it," he said deliberately. There was no waver in his voice, but he seemed to hunch into himself, an almost imperceptible inward folding. "It is serious. It could jeopardize my place in the Order and my place among the Death Eaters."

Her heart began to pound in her ears, and a slight thread of anger began to weave itself from her bowels to her throat. "And you've been keeping it from me?" she asked, fighting to keep the anger down.

Severus met her eyes, but she could see that he was upset with himself. Upset and guilty, it seemed. "Yes," he said simply. "Not deliberately, not at first. You were poisoned, as planned, but the recovery was more complicated than we expected. And then – there were other things to take care of."

"Things more important than something that could jeopardize your place as a double agent and spy?" Hermione asked incredulously. She fought the urge to begin chewing on her lip.

"No," Severus said, still meeting her own eyes. "Not more important." He sighed, looking away at last, and rubbed his temples. "Hermione, my Patronus has changed."

She could see that this was supposed to be revelatory for her, that this was supposed to the crest of a wave of knowledge breaking upon the shore. Instead, she stared at him, the anger still raising. "And?" she demanded. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Severus didn't flinch, but she could almost see another layer of shields sliding into place behind his eyes. "Do you know why each person's Patronus takes the shape it does?" he asked, voice still steady. "Do you know what it means when they change?"

She shook her head, her mouth a hard line.

"I didn't either," Severus said simply. "Like you I was raised mostly in the Muggle world, and when my mother did speak about magic it was … the darker elements of our craft."

Despite herself, Hermione was curious at the mention of his mother. Severus didn't often speak of his family. "And the Patronus Charm is one of the most obvious Light magics," Hermione said, unprompted. "The only known defense against Dementors, based on memories of happiness and joy, they are physical manifestations of safety and love."

Severus looked her in the eye. "And for the last twenty years – since the first time I cast a Patronus since I was sixteen – my protector was a doe."

The realization was a double punch to the gut and the chest, causing her breath to leave in a harsh gulp. Tears pricked at her eyes though they did not fall. Hermione knew that what Severus had seen in her had, at first, been the formidable speed at which she was able to draw connections, to understand motivations and linkages and emotions.

His Patronus was a doe. Hermione remembered the first time she had been close to a Patronus, when a silver stag had erupted from Harry's wand, what her friend had later confided in her felt like a physical manifestation of his father. If James Potter was the stag, Lily Potter – _Lily Evans_ , Hermione thought savagely – had always been the doe.

Around the feeling of bile rising in her chest, Hermione only said, "Lily."

Severus nodded. "And now it's changed." He drew his wand slowly, and cast, stomach tight as he thought of Hermione, nude in the bath. " _Expecto Patronum."_

The silvery panther poured from his wand, poised for a fight. Its head swung as though it was sniffing the air, looking for a threat. Finding none, it stalked to Hermione, gazing at her with steady eyes, before flicking a tail and vanishing.

Taken aback, Hermione looked up at Severus. "I'm so confused," she said, suddenly feeling very, very tired. "Are you in love with her? Were you in love with her? What are you trying to tell me?"

Severus dropped his gaze, unable to meet her eyes. "Do you know the full story of why I joined the Order? Why I turned?"

"No, I don't," Hermione said, brow furrowing. "I know what you said. That you were infatuated with Lily, that you wanted to protect her son and because you knew it was the right thing to do. What the hell does this have to do with your Patronus? Severus, you need to _talk_ to me because I'm about one more cryptic statement away from going to Dumbledore and demanding an answer myself." Her voice had risen as she spoke, and to her surprise, Severus shrunk further in on himself.

It was unlike him, this strong man, this man made of stone and fury and ice to be so – so – in a moment it came to her. It was unlike him to be so ashamed.

Standing, Hermione went to him, kneeling at his feet and putting a hand to his cheek. She didn't force him to look at her, but stroked his skin gently. "You can tell me," she said quietly. "But if you are going to do this, you need to do it now."

"You may hate me," he croaked. "The only thing getting me through this is that you came to me to tell me it will be alright."

Hermione leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "That was your last cryptic statement, Severus," she said firmly. "What. Aren't. You. Telling. Me."

He breathed out. "I was the one who gave the Dark Lord enough of the prophecy to target Harry Potter," Severus said, eyes closed. "I am the reason that his parents were killed and why he has a Horcrux in his head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 61.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! I love hearing from you all. 
> 
> We are now officially caught up to what I have posted at ff.net! The chapter that is coming out next Saturday is completely brand new - exciting, isn't it! I know that's a bit of a cliffhanger, but at least you all only have to wait a week and not since July!
> 
> See you next Saturday!


	62. 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!
> 
> We are here at last - finally caught up to the version of the story on ff.net and new content! Yay!
> 
> On to the story, a few notes at the bottom.

_**Chapter 62** _

_"You may hate me," he croaked. "The only thing getting me through this is that you came to me to tell me it will be alright."_

_Hermione leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "That was your last cryptic statement, Severus," she said firmly. "What. Aren't. You. Telling. Me."_

_He breathed out. "I was the one who gave the Dark Lord enough of the prophecy to target Harry Potter," Severus said, eyes closed. "I am the reason that his parents were killed and why he has a Horcrux in his head."_

Hermione rocked back on her heels, her mind reeling. "I had always wondered how he had found it," she whispered. "Why?"

Severus opened his eyes, his expression haunted. "Because I was desperate," he rasped. "Because it was the summer of 1980, I was twenty years old, and I had just finished the Potions Mastery that Lucius Malfoy had paid for in half the time it should have taken me to do it. Because the Dark Lord was breathing down my neck to create more and more destructive and horrific potions. Because each time I failed he would torture me. Because I hated Dumbledore and wanted to hurt him. And because I had no idea to whom to prophecy referred."

Hermione pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, mind whirling. "Tell me what happened," she instructed. "Why were you even there?"

"I had just returned from my Potions Mastery in Italy two months before," Severus said. "And already I knew if I could not brew the Dark Lord immortality I would not last long as a half-blood Death Eater with no fortune and no one living who cared for him. I came up with a plan – I knew Slughorn was retiring, I knew that the Defense Position was always open, and I knew if I could get into Hogwarts, I could be of value. I could be a spy, I could turn the young minds of a generation – I had a whole speech planned for the Dark Lord of how I would prove my worth to him, if only he would keep me alive."

Hermione felt her eyes filling with tears this time, hearing the desperation in his voice. She wanted to ask so many questions – why had he joined in the first place? Why chain himself to that despot? But she stayed quiet, bringing her hand from his face to where his hands were clenched and tight in his lap.

"Dumbledore was doing interviews that day, in the Leaky Cauldron," he continued. "I wanted to hear what he would ask, and so I eavesdropped. He was interviewing a woman who claimed to be a Seer but who really appeared to be a drunk and a fraud."

"Trelawney," Hermione said, her suspicions confirmed. "Except she wasn't a drunk and a fraud."

"No," Severus said, shaking his head. "Because even as Dumbledore was trying to end the interview, she began to give a true prophecy."

" _Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"_ Hermione recited, from terrible memory.

Severus jerked abruptly. "Stop!" he ordered. "If the Dark Lord got even an inkling that I had heard more than that, he would tear my mind apart looking for it," he hissed.

"That's all you heard?" she asked, surprised.

"Barely a sentence more. The barkeep found me," Severus said wearily. "I wasn't as good a spy back in the day. I hadn't even disguised myself. I was – I was _gleeful_." His voice twisted with hate. "I knew that with this, there was no way that the Dark Lord would kill me. I would be rewarded, I would be safe…"

Hermione frowned at him. "Something leads me to guess that this was not the case."

"I left the throne room bleeding from my eyes," Severus said flatly. "Not to mention my ears and nose. If I had had a fraction less talent for Occlumency, he would have left me raving mad. Lucius dumped me in Spinner's End and I slept for almost two days." He dragged his hands over his face again. "And when I awoke, called by my Mark the Dark Lord's side again…" He visibly steeled himself. "He was kind. Triumphant. He wanted to know everything I knew about James and Lily Potter."

She sucked in her breath without realizing it. "And that was when you realized they would be targeted?" she asked. "Did you know before you gave him the prophecy?"

Severus shook his head, his eyes still dark and terrible. "I had been out of the country for my Potions Mastery – I had no idea that Lily and James had defied him thrice already. He rifled through my memories, going back to the earliest days of our friendship, before we were even in Hogwarts. He – he's been in your head, Hermione, you know what it feels like."

Hermione shuddered thinking about it. The Dark Lord's presence in her mind had been almost alien, reptilian, cold and constantly amused. Her eyes met Severus' for a moment, and a shared revulsion passed between them.

"He could see that I cared – that I had once cared for her," Severus continued. "He saw how desperately I had wanted her to like me, to be my friend." He could sometimes still hear the Dark Lord's amused laugh, its double echoing within his head, when the Dark Lord had realized how much Severus had craved Lily's attention as a scared first year student. Thankfully he had not shared that humiliation with the Death Eaters present, but Severus had felt a hot blush of shame regardless.

"When did you realize they would be targeted?" asked Hermione. "When did you know?" The question had been beating in her head in time with her heartbeat as she listened, clamoring for her attention. _When did he know? What did he do? When did he know? What did he do?_

The man in front of her looked as though he had turned inward, remembering. "It dawned on me as he focused on information about where the Potters may have been living. He realized it when I did, and I knew I had to cover for my instant panic somehow." He turned those dark eyes on her, shame and worry reflected back at her. "I made him believe that I had wanted her. That I had been in love with her. Dumbledore thinks that the Dark Lord has never loved – he isn't familiar with the emotion. He mistook lust, childhood affection, and whatever scraps of want I could pull from my mind and push onto Lily for love."

He waited for a beat, but Hermione was silent, still meeting his eyes. Severus could see the crease of pain on her forehead, the tightening of her lips, but she didn't speak. "I pleaded with him to spare her life," he said. "I said that I had loved her, and as everyone around me laughed, he promised he would at least try to bring her back for me, as a prize. And then, to punish me for lusting after a Mudblood, he allowed my brothers to torture me to within an inch of my life. This time, no one helped me home."

"When did you go to Dumbledore?" demanded Hermione. "How long did it take you to seek him out?"

"I healed what I could and passed out," Severus admitted. "I woke, thought about what I was going to try to do, and was terrified. Just having the thought in my head could have gotten me killed. And I thought about my life and the balance of the good I had done and the dark, and I knew that if I died, no one would miss me. The only reaction anyone would have to me being dead would have been 'good riddance.' I had nothing to lose, no one to lose, and that thought made me want to drink myself into a stupor. And then – then I wrote to him. I asked him to meet me somewhere remote. In the Highlands. I reconciled myself to the thought that he might just kill me on sight, as a Death Eater. I felt thankful that at least I didn't have any family left, so that if the Dark Lord ever found out about my betrayal at least no one else would suffer for my foolishness."

"And he just came and met you?" asked Hermione incredulously. "He just agreed to meet a Death Eater in a remote location at night?" Even through the maelstrom of emotions she was feeling, her heart ached for the despair in his voice, the self-hatred that colored his words and memories.

"He was, arguably, one of the most powerful wizards in the world," Severus said tightly. "And I was a skinny, underfed twat with a Mastery in Potions, not Charms or Transfiguration or a Dueling championship. And he knew that I had overheard the prophecy. And as soon as he appeared I threw myself on the ground in front of him, blubbering. I was not a particularly fearful sight."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Blubbering?" she asked. "You?" She had rather imaged the moment as a tense stand off between two powerful men.

Severus frowned at her. "This was me almost twenty years ago," he said. "I had come close to death twice in the last week at the hands of my master and I knew that I would likely die for the meeting I was in. I was exhausted and ready to die, and I wanted to do something good before I died. When I had been swallowing my blood on the floor of the Dark Lord's throne room, the only person I could imagine feeling the slightest bit of sadness at my death was Lily. I wanted to make sure that she and her family would at least know they were going to be targeted so that they could hide. I hated Dumbledore then – I was furious at how he had treated me as a student, I hated that I had to go to him, that I knew that given everything that had come between us, that Lily would never even read a letter from me. And he was disgusted with me, disgusted with everything I stood for, until – until I cast my Patronus."

"And it was a doe," Hermione murmured.

"And it was a doe," Severus repeated. "He took it as a sign that it was love – or that at least it was more pure that whatever other intentions I might have had."

Hermione rubbed her eyes suddenly, feeling drained. "And that was how you began spying for the Order."

"At least it was the beginning," he agreed. "Much happened after that – I had to approach the Dark Lord and request permission to seek employment at the school. Dumbledore had already agreed to hire me – and I became a spy. I fed them information about Order movements that had been agreed upon before hand, and Order members made clever escapes. The Potters went into hiding, and I was able to explain that it was Fidelious Charm and that I didn't have a hope of obtaining the address for him, and it was holding in a precarious balance until Wormtail went to the Dark Lord in secret."

There was a long silence, broken only by the sounds of wood snapping in the fireplace and Hermione's breathing. Severus realized he was holding his breath, waiting for her to respond. He kept going back to the meeting in the corridor with this Hermione from the future – she still loved him. After all of this, she still loved him. The thought gave him the courage to reach out to her, to touch her wrist.

Hermione looked up at him, then turned her wrist to hold his hand. "I'm going to ask you one time, and this will be the last time I ask you," she said, clearly and as calmly as she could. Despite the effort she had taken to force her emotions down, her voice shook. "Were you in love with Lily Evans?"

"No," Severus said quietly. "But it was a lie that I used to ensure my survival."

Hermione closed her eyes. "I refuse to be measured against or to be jealous of a dead woman," she said, and then opened her eyes again. "I trust you, Severus. What does it mean for you, now, that your Patronus has changed?"

"It means my life is in danger," he answered simply. "The Order may believe I have turned against them, and the Death Eaters may suspect that something is drastically different in my life. Despite the fact it isn't true, a person's Patronus changing is seen as a sign of deep and true love – and if they think I have someone who I love, they will seek to discover who is it and use that person to control me. If they report it to the Dark Lord, he will want to know, and he will tear through my mind looking for you. I wouldn't even be able to use the excuse that I am toying with you – the change in the Patronus will be taken as a sign that I am deeply in love with you." He was obviously distressed, the pulse in his neck jumping as he clenched his jaw.

Hermione stood up suddenly to pace. "Is that what it means, though?" she asked. "Is that what a Patronus changing means?"

He got to his feet as well, though not to pace, but simply to lean against one of the walls. "No, not at all," he said, his voice taking on an almost lecturing tone, grasping for some thread of control. "A Patronus is a reflection of happiness and safety in the form of an animal protector. The presence of relatively weak animals as protection shows us that our magic doesn't necessarily chose the animal we think of as the best protector – I believe you told me that Miss Lovegood's Patronus is a rabbit, of all things. No, the Patronus is more complicated than that. In the case of James Potter, he probably used memories of transforming into a stag with his friends as a boy – that rush of happiness and freedom was probably the first memory he used. For Lily, she knew James as a stag and she was out of Hogwarts and in the Order before she cast her first Patronus. It was a doe – she was probably using happy memories of the family she had built with James Potter. It was widely spread around and I knew before I cast mine. The happiest memories I had, for a long time, were memories of spending time with Lily and her family – and thus mine was a doe. Until I found other happy memories, memories that are close to who I am as a person. I fell for you, yes, but as you see my Patronus is not an otter of any kind. My Patronus reflects who I am, now."

Hermione frowned at him, still turning the thoughts over in her head. "Then why do people associate it so deeply with falling in love? Now that I'm thinking about it, I've seen it in a lot of Wizarding books as a trope!"

"For a lot of witches and wizards it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, if it is anything at all," Severus said dismissively. He opened his mouth to speak further, but paused when he realized Hermione had stopped her pacing entirely, her mouth making an 'oh' of surprise. He could almost hear her brain working.

Suddenly, she rushed to him. "A self-fulfilling prophecy, Severus! That's it!" She was delighted, it was clear, but her mind was still rushing forward a mile a minute.

"What does that mean?" he asked her urgently. "That's it to what?"

She grinned up at him. "You've been telling me it's too dangerous for you to try to trick the Dark Lord into pursuing the Hallows, that it would be clear in an instant that you were lying because everyone would tell him it's a fake – but we have a foolproof way to feed him information, Severus, a way that I can't believe we've never considered! We know how much the Dark Lord wants the prophecy – you said it yourself, if he thought it was in your head he would tear you apart looking for it. This is how we get him to do what we want – we finally give him the full prophecy!" She said it in a rush, stumbling over her words, wandlessly and wordlessly Summoning her notebook to her hand.

Severus stared at her, dumbfounded. "That would never work," he said flatly. "He knows that Dumbledore would never give me the prophecy, he would suspect a trap. We just finished speaking of how my position with everyone – Order and Death Eaters – has just been jeopardized –"

"Then we don't use you," Hermione said, rushing again, flipping through her notebook, not even looking at him. "We use Draco, or another Death Eater, anyone you'd want elevated to the top. We can stage it, even, give them a valid memory to look at. But if we could craft a plan for the Dark Lord to spend him time looking for the Hallows, that gives us time – time to research, to prepare, even to lay a trap –"

Not too gently, he grasped her by the upper arms, stopping her in her tracks once again. "Slow down, Hermione," he cautioned. "This is an idea, yes, but one that we can't be sure of yet. We would need to think it through – it would need to be foolproof, we would need to plan for every eventuality, we would have to be absolutely sure he would believe it." He saw as she pulled her mind from frenzied planning, and brought her attention to him fully.

She reached out a hand and caressed his cheek. "This will work," she said softly. "We can't just beat him by desperately hoping we find every Horcrux in time. We need the upper hand, for once in our lives. We need to change the game – instead of responding to him, we need to be on the offensive. We need to change the rules, Severus."

"And we need to do it in a way that does not put my life, or Draco's life, in danger," he said insistently. But even as he protested, he heard the truth in her words. "It's a good idea," he conceded. "But we'll need that adapted Fidelius spell you're working to be finished. And we need to create a web – an intricate web with many layers, so that he will find the tricks' he's expecting to find and foil them, never suspecting there are more layers underneath."

Hermione smiled at him. "We can do this," she said. "Not just you and me – the entire Order will have to help us. We need to spin a trap across Europe, a treasure hunt that is aimed at secretly weakening him. It will be complex and it will be dangerous, but with the right bait we can make him dance to our tune."

Severus shook his head in amazement. "Only you would speak of making the Darkest and most powerful wizard alive today dance to your tune," he said wryly. "I can't quite believe you sometimes, Hermione."

"We've only succeeded by chance so far," she said, coming closer to him and wrapping her arms around him. "Think about that first Horcrux that we destroyed – Harry did it on accident! It had come so close to sucking the soul out of Ginny Weasley – the only thing that stood in the way of Voldemort taking over her body was Ginny's sheer force of will to hold on as long as she did and a twelve-year-old boy with a basilisk fang. Think – Quirrell must have also found one of the Horcruxes in Albania, and he wasn't even able to hold his own."

Then, for the second time that night, Hermione stiffened in shock and surprise. "Oh – oh – Severus!"

He pulled away to look at her. "You've made so many connections tonight I'm afraid to say anything else," he said dryly. "What now?" Hermione was already pulling away from him, eyes lost again in her thoughts.

"Ginny Weasley," she said, sitting and pulling her notebook toward her again. "For Harry – she's intimately familiar with Horcruxes and possession by them. And she's survived it, made it almost a year before she was weak enough for it to try to take her – almost a year at eleven years old! Have we taken a close look at her recently? A really close look?"

Severus frowned, returning to his own chair. "Not really, no. I know Dumbledore wanted to push her toward Harry, although there was a time when he had thought it was a bad idea after the ordeal in the Chamber. But he brightened up to it again after it appeared there were no ill effects on Miss Weasley's end. Her mother is protective, as always. She's smart, good at her classes, well-liked amongst her peers. Dumbledore had Andromeda do the same sorts of Wizarding etiquette classes with her that you had to do – shaping her into the perfect future helper to his hero." This was said with a derisive sneer.

"I think – I think we may need Ginny's help with this," Hermione murmured, pouring over her notes. "I'm not quite sure how this is going to fit – I can feel the puzzle pieces turning over in my head, but I feel like I'm just missing one of them…"

Severus laughed, startling Hermione out of her thoughts. "What's so funny?" she asked, him, no small sharpness in her tone. "This may be _it_ , Severus!"

"It's not, not yet," he told her, shaking his head. "You'll get it later, I promise. But for now, shall we go to bed? It's nearly two in the morning."

Surprised, Hermione glanced at the clock that he pointed to, feeling her weariness surge and crash upon her like a wave. Feeling torn, she glanced at her notebook again, then back at the man in front of her. "I-"

"You need sleep, especially if you are going to be determining the fate of the Wizarding World," Severus said, coming closer and offering her a hand. "You'll think better in the morning."

Allowing herself to be drawn up, Hermione almost fell into Severus, wrapping her arms tightly about him. "You're good for me," she murmured into his chest. "We'll figure out the Patronus stuff, Severus, I promise. For the Order, at least. If they want to doubt you, they'll face me."

He kissed the top of her head, feeling warm and tender toward her. "A terrifying prospect," he assured her. "They would be sure to reconsider."

She laughed sleepily. "Let's go to bed. Even if I'm lying there just thinking more it would be good to do with the lights off and in your arms."

* * *

Professor Flitwick's office was as light and airy as the Potion Master's office had been dark and grim. At the height of one of the many eastern towers of the castle, Professor Flitwick had a soaring space with vaulted ceilings and high windows, filled with brilliant morning sunlight. The gold and blue tones made the space feel rich and spacious – or, Hermione mused, it was the many expanding charms the diminutive professor had applied to the space.

Flitwick jumped when a disguised Hermione pushed open the door and closed it behind herself. She shimmered into visibility as the Disillusionment Charm fell away, and her professor grinned broadly at her.

"I must say that is the finest Disillusionment Charm I've seen a student perform!" he effused. "Perhaps the best I've seen amongst Order members-" he stopped and squeaked when Hermione held up a hand.

"One moment, Professor," Hermione said, fighting to stop a bolt of irritation from emerging in her voice. With brisk wand strokes, she applied locking and privacy charms to the door, banished a flouncy shepherdess from a pastoral painting and conjured then charmed a curtain to prevent any other visitors from hearing or seeing anything from the frame. When the Charms professor once again opened her mouth, she shook her head again. Carefully raising and lowering her wand, Hermione scanned for a variety of listening and eavesdropping charms. She wouldn't put it past the most competitive of her classmates – primarily the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws, if she were honest – not to try to listen in to office hours without actually attending. She didn't want anyone to hear anything they weren't meant to, after all.

She found one right under Flitwick's wide oak desk, and after poking at it, beckoned the professor over and indicated he should deal with it as he normally did. The scowl on his face looked almost comical on such a small person – but Hermione knew that aside from being a dueling champion of some renown, Flitwick had been given his Charm's Mastery in part due to a paper on the creative use of charms in combat. In many ways, Flitwick could be considered just as dangerous as her or Severus – albeit, less morally grey and more out of practice.

"Anything else?" Flitwick asked, once the spell had been dealt with. He was looking at her appraisingly, now, impressed despite himself.

Hermione gave him a warm, genuine smile. "Just your favorite privacy charms. The strongest you have that aren't … noticeable."

He raised his eyebrows at her, but complied. She wanted to know what they were, but like her, Flitwick completed his spellwork silently. A moment later, he indicated he was done, gesturing for her to take a seat in front of his desk.

"Satisfied, Miss Granger?" he asked, a bit archly.

"Yes, thank you," she said sweetly, smiling back at him. "My apologies – blame it on Severus, if you must, but I must say I've gotten rather more suspicious of who is listening over the years."

She could see that the Charms Master was taken aback by her casual use of Severus' given name. It would have been a foolish game for an ordinary student to play, given the Potion Master's famed temper, but Hermione wanted to remind him that she was not only an adult, but a member of the Inner Circle of the Order. She thought about it, and dropped her Glamours wordlessly and wandlessly.

"Impressive again, Miss Granger," Flitwick said, excitement coming into his face. "How long have you been practicing wandless magic? Can you do it with other things, or just with your Glamours? I know Severus made a comment about you wearing them almost constantly now – is it the practice?" He leaned over his desk, peering at her features through his small glasses.

Hermione concentrated, then slowly lifted her hand at a stack of books on the professor's desk. They slowly rose, then settled down on the table- with a wobble, for theatrics. It wouldn't do for anyone to be too sure of the extent of her capabilities with wandless magic. By this point, such an action didn't drain Hermione badly at all – she could just feel that it took more concentration than it normally did to do a simple levitation spell. The easier ones to cast – creating light or putting out candles, for example – she could do almost without thinking about it.

Flitwick clapped loudly, looking delighted. "Marvelous, Miss Granger, simply marvelous."

"Thank you," she said, feeling proud despite herself. There would always be a part of Hermione Granger who wanted to make her professors happy, and she couldn't help a satisfied smile. "Your praise means a lot to me, Professor Flitwick. But I didn't ask you to clear time for me to show off my wandless magic skills – I've come with more than a few questions, and formal request from the Order."

Despite having fought alongside Dumbledore during the first war against Voldemort, Filius Flitwick had somehow never made it into the Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione suspected that the "somehow" had something to do with Flitwick's goblin ancestry.

Most wizards and witches did not trust goblins – and for good reason. It was unwise of any conquering force to trust those they had conquered, and the relationship between the wizarding government and the goblin was far more similar to that of the colonizer and the subject than of two governments working cooperatively. Wizards had forced goblins from their land, seized the mines full the material goblins needed to practice their metalwork and their religion, burned down schools and destroyed archives of magical knowledge, and refused to acknowledge them as fully magical and cognizant beings. Gringotts had been a feat of political maneuvering – the goblins could offer something to Wizards that they could not resist: a safe place for their money. The warrens of Gringotts had once been the homes of hundreds of thousands of goblin families. Well guarded and hideously complex, the nearly empty subterranean maze was seized by the Wizarding government to be converted into a bank. In a series of rebellions the goblins had wrested control from the wizards, and had established systems of trade with other countries. Rebellions and savvy business sense had given the goblins at least control of the bank – but the bank had also become something like a prison. It was the only space occupied by goblins in the United Kingdom, and once outside its boundaries, goblins were subject to extreme prejudice. To the Order, the goblins seemed like a powder keg waiting to explode – if the Dark Lord were to offer the goblins any inch more of freedom, it was likely they would have taken it wholeheartedly. They had only been lucky in that the pureblooded Death Eaters were liable to have treated the goblins like scum on the bottom of their shoes at each Gringott's visit. Regardless, it was unlikely that Flitwick, despite his skill in dueling and charms, would ever be given a seat at the Inner Circle.

Flitwick was loyal to Albus Dumbledore in his own way, however. Dumbledore had championed more than one piece of goblins rights legislation, and had offered Flitwick a position at Hogwarts in his first year as Headmaster. While Flitwick was grateful to have been defended by Dumbledore, he was a shrewd man and not an easily swayed one. Hermione saw very clearly that Dumbledore had not received quite the amount of veneration that he had hoped to receive – but that he had not dismissed Flitwick as useless. Rather, he served as a talented teacher, and as a formidable spellcaster when the Order needed one. All of the Charm work at the many safe houses had been a collaboration between Flitwick and Dumbledore.

"A request from the Order?" Flitwick repeated. "What kind of request?"

Hermione hesitated. "Well – a request for the Order," she hedged. "I have an idea, an idea for a charm that might allow us to share more information with the Order at large," she explained. "Since Albus'… accident… it has been clear that no matter how talented one is, there are vulnerabilities. We need a way to safely guard information that is in someone's head. A Fidelius Charm, but for memories or information rather than a location."

Flitwick frowned, already thinking hard. "Fidelius Charms are for locations, Miss Granger – you enchant the actual house."

"Yes, but the key to the charm that I believe can be adapted is the mind magic it works," she insisted. "For example – Headquarters. The first time I went to Headquarters, someone showed me a piece of paper with the exact address written on it. I could see it all in my mind – the house number, the street name, the town. I could see it in my mind's eyes as clear as day. But in that moment, if someone had performed Legilimency on me, they would not have been able to see the address as I saw it. If someone looked at a memory of myself reading that piece of paper, they would not be able to see the address. The magical complexity – it is immense. And we need to be able to apply it to an actual secret in order to win this war."

That statement was met with raised eyebrows, but Flitwick didn't say anything about the quiet urgency in Hermione's voice. "It's a multi-layered and complex spell, Miss Granger," he explained. "One of the oldest known to Wizardkind."

"As long as there have been humans there have been things they've wanted to keep hidden," Hermione said with a shrug. "But just because it is old doesn't mean it can't be adapted." She rustled through her bag, withdrawing a sheaf of parchment on which several neat Arithmantic calculations were carefully arranged into orderly proofs. She glanced over it one more time, then handed it to Flitwick.

"Well this is most surprising, Miss Granger," he said in surprise. "Most surprising indeed."

Hermione grinned a him. She knew she had done a thorough job. "Thank you. I broke down what I understood of the spell from books and from speaking to Albus. I need you to see if you can see if I accurately mapped out the spell and its mathematical roots. And then we need to figure out how exactly we can change it."

Flitwick was squinting at the parchment over his glasses, and had summoned a quill to follow along the tidy rows of neat numbers and runes. "Well I see this is the first layer of the spell – a 'closing in' so to speak of the property line. This is done with herbs and with runes – yes, yes – it seems you've mapped this out correctly. Then comes the binding of the Secret Keeper and the Instrustment of the secret – yes, this looks right, more or less. It is less binding of the Secret Keeper than you thought it was Miss Granger – you may want to use a different rune for "trust" than the one you chose. And then – ah, yes. Here is where you need to begin again – the Mind Arts do not appear to have been mapped correctly."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, leaning in to see where the man was pointing. In her own clear script, the runes for "mind" and "secret" were applied to each other mathematically, twining around each other on multiple planes.

Flitwick nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across his creased face. "Yes, yes. Here it is. You see, Miss Granger, the secret kept by the Secret Keeper is not kept in their mind – it is kept in their soul."

For a moment it felt to Hermione as if she had been transported out of the airy and light tower room. A branch of soul magic she hadn't studied? A detail no one had mentioned about the Fidelius Charm? "But how?" she protested weakly. "How do we know?"

It was apparently clear to the Charms professor that she was disturbed – he peered at her, his frown settling onto his face. "Unfortunately the answer is Dementors, Miss Granger," he said slowly. "We've seen that when someone is a Secret Keeper and their soul is absorbed by a Dementor, it ends their role as Secret Keeper and anyone they have given the secret to becomes a secondary keeper of a sort – they are able to share the secret with others, but someone without knowledge of the secret is still unable to locate the property. The spell only dissolves when the spell caster dies or releases the spell for some reason."

"What reason would that be?" asked Hermione, her mind still spinning slightly. "Why would anyone release the spell?"

The man before her gave her a small, if sad, smile. "Because it is an enormous drain on magical power, Miss Granger. And, of course, it puts one's own life in danger. While I was maintaining the Fidelius Charm on Godric's Hollow I could barely manage some of my seventh year classes here at Hogwarts. Take your Glamours, for instance – you wear them much of the day, do you not?"

Hermione nodded. "I only drop them when I am by myself or with someone who knows the secret," she confirmed. "So most hours of the day they are on."

"And it drains your power," Flitwick said, with an eager nod. "I'm sure you've noticed when you leave them down for a while you feel more powerful."

Hermione thought hard, trying to see if she had noticed the feeling. "I feel more relaxed when they are down, for sure," she said slowly. "But I feel like I've been wearing them forever – nearly seven years for me at this point."

"Interesting," Flitwick said, stroking his beard in an action that strongly reminded Hermione of Dumbledore – she wondered who had picked up the habit from whom. "Well, part of the reason may be that you started performing them so young your magic flexed – adapted to the strain, so to speak, ensured that you could do what you needed. Children's magic is like that, more so before eleven and not much flexible at all after seventeen. But Glamours are a small Charm – the Fidelius is massive, and takes on a greater strain over time."

Hermione pulled the sheet of Arithmantic runes and numbers over, eyes flicking quickly as she scanned it. "I didn't account for power drain at all," she admitted. "And the soul magic – could you elaborate on that? How on earth does it work, hiding something within a soul?"

"It's deeply complicated," Flitwick said seriously. "And it can't be done with just anything – the key to keeping the secret is ownership, strong and true and ancient. That is why we had to use the Potter's cottage at Godric's Hollow instead of any other place. James Potter owned the cottage, deeply and truly. The Fidelius Charm becomes stronger the more ownership one can give to the secret – which is why it is usually used on locations. The ownership of the property is part of the spell itself. The property owner can't be the spell caster at all because they are involved in the process."

"So if we were to do this with a secret, it would be almost like the prophecies at the Department of Mysteries," she said, furrowing her brow. Her fingers itched to write down runes, and without saying a word, Flitwick handed her a quill. "The person whose secret it is would need to give permission?"

Flitwick nodded, using his wand to nudge runes around on the page even as Hermione wrote. "Exactly, Miss Granger. We would need someone who is involved in the secret in some way, who has ownership of it deep in their soul, to pass it into the soul of another."

Hermione snorted without thinking of it. "That won't be a issue," she muttered. _Harry's soul is as involved in this process as it could possibly be._ "What's the other part of keeping a secret hidden in a soul? How does that prevent the secret from being discovered via Legilimancy?'

She had expected Flitwick to shrug or spread his hands, say that it was unknown and unobservable. But instead he simply launched into his explanation. "Not many people understand this, Miss Granger, but I theorize it works much the same way as a soul bond, much like one used in old marriage ceremonies." If he noticed the way that Hermione's breath caught, he said nothing. "The soul and the mind and the body are interconnected in a myriad of ways. Legilimancy works by exploiting the body's connection to the mind – but as often as we say the 'eyes are the windows to the soul' that isn't true – the eyes are the window to the mind, and that is all. When there is a secret buried in someone's soul, it is hidden from their mind. What the Fidelius Charm does is create a soul secret in the soul of the Secret Keeper – and the reason the magic is so great is that it forces everyone else who knows this secret to bury it in their souls as well. The location of Headquarters is not imprinted on your mind, but in your soul! Which is why this magic is truly, truly immense."

"And – and how does this connect with soul bonds?" asked Hermione faintly. _Has all my searching come down to this?_

"Mind, body, soul," he repeated. "The way the soul bond works in the old marriage ceremonies is it binds the souls in order to influence the body. The only children that can be borne are those within the marriage, the bodies are bound in life and death – some say that the couple even breathes synchronously for the first few days after the bond is cast. There is some evidence that the mind can be influenced as well. Less if the person was strong in Occlumency, but still, there is some evidence the bond encourages warm thoughts of the partner. The bond is uses souls to anchor the physical bodies, in the same way that the Fidelius uses the soul to anchor knowledge."

_I need to think about this_ , Hermione thought, _but not now._ "Then that is a strong reason to say that we can adapt the spell to use for secrets and not just property," she said, forcing her mind to return to the project at hand. "Using the same concept, anchoring the secret within the soul. So do you think you could do it? Do you think you could adapt the charm such that we can have someone involved in the secret give the secret to an outside Secret Keeper such that we could keep it safe and hidden?"

"Let me see those papers again, Miss Granger," the professor asked, hedging before making a process. He pushed some more runes around, then frowned and wiped a portion of her work out, scratching for a long time with a quill as she sat and watched. Behind Flitwick, soaring bookshelves reached into the heavens, full with at least as many books were in the Charms section of the library. It was clear that the man in front of her valued knowledge and learning as much as he valued taste – the wood of his desk and rich and well cared for and she noted that the velvet of his teaching robes much more luxe than whatever Severus used for his.

After several minutes of scratching, Flitwick sighed heavily. "I do believe I can do it, Miss Granger," he said cautiously. "It will take several days of work, I fear, but I do think we could start experimenting by the end of the month."

Hermione sucked in a breath. "I'm afraid we need this as soon as possible," she said gravely. "Do you need extra time?"

Flitwick's eyes jumped to golden chain around her neck. "So you are still using it then, Miss Granger?"

"I am," she confirmed, nodding. "This is important enough that if you need the extra time, I will make sure you have it." Hermione bit her lip, then decided to use the trump card she and Severus had discussed earlier. "You know the curse on the Headmaster's hand?" she asked, faking some hesitancy. "That happened over the summer?"

Fliwick's eyes grew wide. All of the professors were desperately curious about what had happened to the Headmaster's hand over the summer, according to Severus. However, the great wizard merely brushed off all questions, refusing to answer anything. Most of the Hogwarts professors were strong witches or wizards – they could sense that something was deeply wrong with the magic in the hand, and with the curse. "Of course I do! Why –"

Hermione leaned in close. "We are vulnerable," she breathed, as quietly as she could. "He holds many of the secrets we need to kill the Dark Lord. He knows his time is – is not certain."

The indrawn breath from Flitwick was sudden and sharp. He looked worried, the wrinkles deepening in his brow. "That was what I was afraid of," he said, almost to himself.

"We need this spell developed as quickly as possible," Hermione insisted. "If you need to take some sick days from teaching, if you need me to use the Time Turner – I hope we can have even a rough prototype to test by the end of the week."

Flitwick met her eyes grimly. "I can try, Miss Granger," he said firmly – or as firmly as he could, given the usual squeakiness of his voice. "I will let you know if I need your assistance. You have given me a good foundation to work with," he added, gesturing to the papers Hermione had brought with her. "Much of the work is right here already, with a few tweaks."

Hermione let a relieved, grateful smile break onto her face. Her professor beamed back at her, clearly pleased. "Thank you!" she exclaimed. "This could really change the entire direction of this war!"

Flitwick blushed with pride. "No promises, Miss Granger," he said. "No promises! It's been a fair while since I've developed a new spell – I wouldn't say I'm rusty, exactly, but not quite as in practice as I used to be."

Even as Hermione bade him farewell and reapplied the Disillusionment, Flitwick had already turned back to her calculations, the scratching of his quill echoing in the empty space. She paused to place a few weak Repelling Charms around Flitwick's door to deter any confused students from interrupting the Charms Master. With a shiver of tense excitement and the feeling that something was niggling at her brain that she couldn't quite put together, Hermione headed back into the dungeons – she had some work to do before meeting Severus in the corridor later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends chapter 62. 
> 
> And that's all I have written so far! Ugh, I know. An update will probably be a while in coming (although I have about 1/4 of the next chapter written) because we are hurtling headlong into finals season, so I'll be writing many other things. Maybe in December? Depends on how much writing/inspo I get. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated - I would love to hear what you are thinking! Hopefully I will see you all soon!


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